


Symbiosis

by 4vrAFangirl



Series: Marriage of Two Minds [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Borderline Personality Disorder, Canon Disabled Character, Drift Compatibility, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Piercings, References to Depression, Self Confidence Issues, Tattoos, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 78,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6678037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4vrAFangirl/pseuds/4vrAFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Symbiosis (noun)- The interaction between two different organisms living in close physical association, typically to the advantage of both.</p><p>“Aw, c’mon dude, you look like someone just told you Christmas was canceled. Biology is awesome. And we get to be partners, this will be great!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Variables

**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not this entire story came from a single line that in the end doesn't even appear anywhere within this narrative. After diving, most enthusiastically, back into the Pacific Rim fandom, and falling in love all over again with my favorite Kaiju bros, however, I wanted to write a fic that would explore one possible take on their relationship and interactions pre-canon, if the two of them had spent some time at University together, and initially met as reluctant lab partners in a core-required course. The ideas, my outlines and various notes exploded from there, which has lead me to the decision to split the story into two separate, but complimentary halves, much like the two characters themselves. The first: encompassing Newton and Hermann's overlapping time together at University up to Hermann being accepted into the Jaeger Academy. And the second: which will pick up and address both the canon, and fictionalized interactions which take place during the events of the film, and track the two through the events after the Breach has been sealed, with a few letters that take place in between the two parts which will be published at the conclusion of part one.
> 
> A special thanks to those who have sent me suggestions for various college/university experiences and scenarios that these two might experience, helped me to brainstorm, and encouraged me throughout this writing process. This series would hardly be what it has become without all of you. I hope that you will enjoy this journey as much as I have in creating and writing it.

Newton Geiszler would be the first to admit that he has good days, and bad ones. One could of course say the same of just about anyone, but when Newton is having a good day, it's fan-fucking-tastic. And when he's having a bad day? Well... it's better if he's around other people; supervised. And so he finds himself going out to a party hosted just off campus by a recent graduate who isn't quite ready to grow up or let go yet, even if he'd much rather be curled up in his bed back at the dormitories.

The doctors don't understand. It's not suicidal tendencies. Not really. Most of the time, even on his worst days Newton doesn't actually want to take his own life. He just wants to stop hurting. He's not suicidal. He doesn't dream of shooting himself, downing a whole bottle of pills, or taking a bath with a toaster. He's apathetic. And on those really bad days when it feels like just about every cell in his body aches in distress, agony, and his anxiety is making his heart pound so fast his chest hurts, the idea of simply laying down in the middle of the nearest freeway and letting the laws of probability do their thing sounds pretty acceptable, even appealing.

Often, and to the great frustration of himself and those around him, Newton doesn't know exactly what interaction or situation has made him sad or angry until he is able to look at it in retrospect, only that once he's reached a certain threshold he's intimately aware of just how much effort may be required to pull him out of the darker corners of his psyche. His uncle- the man who has done his best to raise him along with his father- blames his sister, Newton's mother for it: a child born from the forbidden passion of two artists? A tortured soul was the only possible result. It doesn't seem terribly scientific, but Newton does have to appreciate there's a kind of poetry to his uncle's logic. It certainly sounds a lot prettier, more romantic even than Borderline Personality Disorder, anyway. Because sure, Newton did his time with some of the campus’ school mental health counselors, per the conditions of his admission at such an exceptionally young age. But he’s long since stopped going now he’s logged his hours and is no longer considered a ‘conditional admit’ student. Maybe that sort of talk-therapy works for some people, but most of the time he’d just as soon not talk about his unpredictable and inexplicable mood swings, and he struggled to find anyone to talk to who might be able to keep up with and challenge him intellectually.

It was fine. Well, alright maybe not, but it had been the status quo for long enough it didn’t really come as that much of a surprise. He didn’t really do all that well in most social situations anyway, if he was being honest with himself. Not for lack of trying. The truth of the matter was that he cared a lot more about what people- or certain people at least- thought about him, than he probably should, but it always seemed to end in tears somehow or other. His mouth would get ahead of his head in thinking about all the potential ways someone else might interpret what he said or how he behaved, all the possible outcomes, and he stuck his foot in his mouth at best. At worst his anxiety had him lying awake for countless hours later going over what he did wrong and imagining how it might have gone better and wanting to melt into his mattress and disappear.

The party is both exhilarating, and exhausting. The energy is fantastic. With finals having just wrapped up for most courses everyone is riding the adrenaline rush, drunk on life and the cheap beer someone had provided. The music isn’t exactly the sort that he preferred to listen to, but most of it isn’t half-bad. He hadn’t come with the idea of picking anyone up of course, but it was just a little bit deflating that not one person had done anything to acknowledge he was even there. He is afterall, dressed up, doing his very best to smile, laugh, and convince the rest of the world that today is a good day. On the plus side, he thinks, the effort is sure to be enough to all but guarantee him the ability to fall into an exhausted sleep once his head hit the pillow.

It’s not exactly the most well-thought out of ideas, but Newton can’t remember the last time he got a decent night’s sleep, and he may have indulged in a bit of that beer before leaving the party, so when he passes by a tattoo parlor that still has a few lights on he decides to check it out. He tells the tattooist he’s got a terrible case of baby-face and flashes a convincing, but totally fake ID, and leaves with a fresh bandage over his left forearm starting just above his wrist, and resolves to come back once he’s saved up a bit more to get another one on his other arm. It’s far enough up his arm it’s not immediately visible without him rolling up his sleeves a little, which is surprisingly reserved and well thought out, he thinks later, for not having had all his faculties at the time. But more importantly it’s turned something ugly, the litany of tiny raised scars from untold number of cuts, into a work of art. And _that_ is every bit as addictive as the rush he got from any pain the process had caused. He wants to turn his whole body into a canvas, and devotes a brand new notebook to sketches, clippings, and brainstorms, steadily mapping out how each piece will blend into the next to cover progressively more of his body.

By the following year it’s a different host, different house, and a not so different party, but a different Newton, even if he’s the only one that knows the real extent of it. He’s always had a kind of love-hate relationship with his body, resentful of the way it always seems to hold on to fat all too easily and vigorously protest any kind of exercise. But the tattoos have expanded now from just sleeves to cover most of his torso, and even down his back, he’s thinking about continuing them down his legs too. They make him feel like a kind of a superhero. If he were simply to unbutton his shirt and peel it back bright splashes of color and intricate lines of his now dozens of tattoos could be his kind of emblem, and are _at_ _least_ as cool as any iteration of Superman or Batman’s. It’s a kind of an armor too, though he would be the last to admit it. Tattoos, afterall, aren’t everybody’s thing, so they can serve as a new reason for any possible rejection he might face. _Although if they don’t like them, then they clearly have no taste anyway, because his tattoos are awesome._

_..._

Hermann sighs, taking a seat in the front row, resting his cane against the edge of the desk and pulling out his textbook and notepad while the rest of the students are milling about chatting with one another, forestalling selecting their seats and the class. It’s probably rude, harboring resentment for a course that hasn’t in fact even begun yet, but he can’t help it. Biology is a waste of time. He’s had health courses, has a basic understanding of the human body- probably better working knowledge than most of his peers thanks to his condition- and he has no intention of making a career for himself in any branch of organic sciences. He could be taking a dozen other mathematics courses, or perhaps completing another independent study for course credits. Much to his dismay, however, and despite hearty and well-researched arguments against it, the university is forcing him to take the same core requirements asked of all their students that he’s done his very best to avoid up to this point. So it seems he will be stuck here in the lecture hall for an hour and a half at a time three days per week, with an additional three hours spent in labs.

He doesn't really pay all that much mind to the student that takes the seat just beside his until the professor begins to pair then all off mid-way through his introductory lecture to learn their names and assign them their lab partners for the rest of the term. A cursory sweep around the room doesn't really yield any more promising possibilities, but the kid next to him seems incredibly young, and appears to be dressed more for some kind of rock concert than a college course.

He doesn't immediately offend his nostrils, but Hermann can't be entirely certain whether his hair has been jelled to look devil-may-care, or is simply that greasy. The bar through his septum can't possibly be anything but dangerous in any sort of respectable lab, and a slightly metallic glint from under his brown untidy locks suggests at least two different ear piercings too. It’s difficult to say whether the thick black square frames that are perched on his nose are in fact necessary for his vision, or yet another item to complete the look. The kid’s leather jacket squeaks a little where it rubs against his chair when he sits up waiting to hear who he will be working with. He slides out of it, resting it over the back of his seat to reveal a white button up that's just a bit too snug around the middle and what has got to be the loudest and poorest choice in an undershirt Hermann has ever seen, until he determines what he's actually looking at are a variety of incredibly colorful tattoos that cover the length of his arms that appear to consist of Japanese stylized flames and sunbursts, and Kaijus.

 _Fantastic_ , Hermann thinks; scowling again and turning his attention back to his notebook while he listens for his name. He gets the name of the boy seated beside him instead, at least he assumes that’s why he sits up a little straighter and begins looking around at ‘ _Newton Geiszler,’_ before their instructor is calling out Hermann’s name. _Goddamnit._

Newton is grinning, offering an outstretched hand for him to shake like this is the best of any possible outcomes. Hermann scans the room out of the corner of his eye again, two unpaired students in the back row are actually asleep, so maybe it isn’t the worst possible partnership he could have, but he’s still not thrilled about it.

“Aw, c’mon dude, you look like someone just told you Christmas was canceled. Biology is awesome. And we get to be partners, this will be great!”

“I don’t celebrate Christmas, Newton,” Hermann grumbles softly, copying down the homework assignment from the board while their instructor writes it down.

“Oh, call me Newt,” he smiles genially. “Everyone does. So what do you celebrate?”

“Sorry,” Hermann blinks a little confused, god Newton is practically bouncing. Is he always this irritatingly energetic?

“Holidays. You said you don’t celebrate Christmas. What do you celebrate? Kwanzaa? Chinese New Year?”

“Hanukkah,” Hermann replies, before kicking himself for encouraging or engaging him in any way.

“Cool,” Newt smiles, nodding. “Even better, eight days worth of presents, right?” _Not likely in the Gottlieb house,_ Hermann thinks. “Right, well,” Newton stumbles a little uncertainly in the awkward silence that falls between the pair of them. “Um, so do you want to swap numbers or something so we can get a hold of each other, and plan out when we want to meet up to complete the labs?"

“I suppose that would be best,” Hermann acknowledges regretfully, tearing off a piece of a page from his notebook and scribbling down his number on it. “I have classes and studies most mornings, but if you let me know when you have free afternoons or evenings I’m sure we can find a time to complete the labs that would suit us both.”

“Awesome. Hey, I’ve got a little free time now if you do, maybe we could grab something to eat, get to know each other a little better,” Newt suggests. Hermann bites back yet another sigh. This boy must either be incredibly optimistic and oblivious, or stupid to stubbornly persist as he is.

“I appreciate the offer,” Hermann lies, packing up his things back into his bag, and grabbing up his cane as he stands. “But I am not attending University for the social opportunities it affords. It isn’t necessary for us to become best friends to work together. I can assure you while biology is neither my field nor interest that I have every intention of leaving this class with top marks, and will contribute nothing less than my fair share of the workload whether we get on or not. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some other rather pressing demands on my time.”

He’s not more than a few steps out into the corridor before he hears another of the students from the class consoling Newt on getting stuck with such a grumpy stick in the mud for his lab partner, but it’s not as if this isn’t anything he hasn’t heard before.

...

“So, um, you wouldn’t happen to be related to Lars Gottlieb by any chance would you,” Newt finally works up the courage to ask, while his eyes are glued to the microscope that holds their samples a few days later.

“Congratulations, you lasted longer than I thought you would,” Hermann replies dryly, even as he grips and presses his pencil a little too hard to his paper. He’d known this day would come, sooner rather than later. Most of the time he was just caustic enough the other students kept their distance, but working in such close proximity and for the rest of the semester, it was inevitable that Newton would get to asking more about him eventually, even if he had done his best to assure him he had no expectations or desires for them to become fast friends in addition to being lab partners.

“Huh,” Newt replied, tearing himself away from the microscope, and looking confused.

“I expected to be fielding questions about my father almost as soon as I saw the Kaiju tattoos.”

“Your father is- He’s one of the brains behind the Jaeger program,” Newt manages eyes boggled.

“That can’t really be that much of a surprise if you had enough suspicion to ask about our being related,” Hermann replies impatiently, not looking up from where he is recording the results of their latest lab.

“Yeah, but… Wow. Just- wow," Newt repeats shaking his head. "So are you going to major in engineering too? Build Jaegers with him or something?"

"Mathematics and Physics," Hermann replies with a small inward sigh.

"Oh, well that's neat too," Newt recovers quickly with a smile.

"I'm working on building a program to help run them more efficiently. The Jaegers," he qualifies as an afterthought, in case Newt is still trying to convincingly play the part of being interested in his choice of a more theoretical field of study. "More electronics and seamless operations rather than the analog and nuclear construction of the first generation Jaegers. Easier to maintain, less strain on the pilots," Hermann can't really say why it is he's confiding any of this in his lab partner. For one thing, it would seem a ridiculous hypothesis to entertain the idea that telling him this will get him to shut up, or drop the subject. And for another, it’s unlikely any amount of feigned enthusiasm is going to equate to his lab partner understanding any of his work if he were to share the meat and potatoes of the actual code of the program with him. But Newt had asked about him, about his studies, and for one moment, however brief, it’s nice that it’s about him, and his work, and not his father’s and the large shadow he’s trying his damndest to step out of.

“Seriously,” Newt manages, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his messy hair. Hermann levels him with an unimpressed stare. _No I just made that all up_ , he thinks. He might have known better than to try and attempt to have an actual conversation, it’s really not his area of expertise: interacting with others. “Dude, that’s fucking awesome,” Newt all but crows, startling him from his reverie so abruptly Hermann knocks his cane to the floor with an echoing clatter. _That’ll be the next thing he asks about_ ¸ Hermann thinks cynically with a frown, as his partner quickly slides off of his chair to pick it up for him. But Newton just straightens up, carefully setting the cane back up to lean against the table out of the way of their work and reclaims his seat, without a word or question about it. “My lab partner is going to make the next generation of Jaegers,” Newt marvels, a little quieter and more contained now, but still awed in a way that almost makes Hermann feel a slight blush creeping up the back of his neck.

“What are you studying,” Hermann asks finally, partly because it’s probably polite, but also to change the subject, because it’s a tiny bit uncomfortable and completely irregular for anyone to talk about his work, or look at Hermann the way those large green eyes are from behind his square frames.

“Everything I can since I’ve got a scholarship paying for all of it,” Newt replies with a grin, and a small shrug. “But mostly Sciences-dabbled a bit in chemistry, but I’m working on a PhD-Master’s degree track for biology now," he continues, prompting Hermann to look up in surprise. It would probably be rude of him to ask just how old Newton is, but even on the accelerated academic path he’s chosen, his partner seems incredibly young for a PhD. He certainly is, though perhaps that’s where his bias comes from; everyone likes to believe they are special now and again, even if he likes to pretend he’s above it all. They talk a little more, mostly Newton, about their courses, and the results of their lab while they finish their work, before going their separate ways to write their respective reports.

Hermann definitely _does not_ Google Newton when he gets back to his room later that evening. And he certainly doesn't avoid his laptop for the rest of the evening to prevent himself from doing so, because that would just be ridiculous. Why should he care? He’s certain if he wanted to he could just ask his questions and have his ear talked off by the young man himself, but more importantly he doesn’t give a damn. Newton is… Well, Hermann is forced to concede now they’ve been working together for a few classes and hours in the lab that he is in fact quite brilliant when it comes to the applied sciences, but that doesn’t make him any less annoying. He’s all too often loud-both in volume, and his choices in attire and body adornment, bouncy in his what must be boundless and almost frantic energy, brash, and seems to have a tendency of blurting out whatever thought crosses his mind without bothering with filtering it first. He seems at times, almost more like an obnoxious younger brother he cannot shake than a lab partner. _Was Bastien this bad,_ he thinks trying to remember, it has been awhile since the last time he has seen or spent a significant amount of time with his younger brother, but he thinks that if the youngest Gottlieb had shown any proclivity towards Newton’s kind of hyperactive behavior their father would have been quick to stamp it out of him.

There’s a flicker of an emotion there, just for a moment, which accompanies that thought that Hermann can’t quite classify. Newton is a bit irritating to be sure, Hermann doesn’t like him, and he has no reason to suspect that that will change. They don’t seem as though the two of them could be any more dissimilar from one another, and he meant it when he said that they didn’t need to be friends to work together. Hermann doesn’t have friends, and even if he wanted any it’s not as if he has the luxury of time for them. There is a war going on, a fight for the entire human race, and he’s already spent too long on the sidelines learning and training so he can be useful, he doesn’t have the time for friends. But however much he may disapprove of certain aspects of his new lab partner, he doesn’t actually hate Newton, certainly not enough to wish his father on him.

Newton on the other hand has barely made it back to his floor before he’s pulling out his phone to do some research on his new lab partner. Not that he had any qualms asking Hermann questions, but his lab partner didn’t seem to be nearly as talkative or forthcoming about himself. He’s only a year older, which comes as something of a surprise. Hermann doesn’t look nearly old enough for the kinds of clothes that he wears of course. Actually a lot of it looks just this side of ill-fitted if Newt is being honest; as though perhaps (and some of them are certainly worn enough to be) they are hand-me-downs borrowed from someone better suited for them. But there’s a certain air of authority in the way that Hermann carries himself too, not just because of the cane or generally grumpy looking expression, which demands he be taken seriously and gives the impression of a much older soul. Newton would have been tempted to dismiss him as stodgy before this evening’s conversation. Hermann certainly hadn’t done much to hide his disappointment when they had been assigned as lab partners. But even in the little pieces of information he’s managed to worm out of him, it’s clear Hermann, or his mind at least, is anything but dull. If Newt can just learn enough about him, find a way of navigating a conversation without annoying or pissing him off every five minutes, he’s sure they could in fact get on well, whatever Hermann’s stubborn insistence that they don’t need to be friends to be lab partners.

Hermann Gottlieb is a transfer student from Europe, and based on what he was talking about with his program he’s helping create to improve the Jaegers, it seems likely that he’s done so to have a better chance vying for a coveted spot in the Academy up in Alaska once he’s completed the last courses for his own PhD. The PPDC doesn’t take anything less than the brightest when it comes to their elite research division, but even without having seen or really understanding all of his partner’s research, Newton thinks Hermann’s probably got a good chance of making the cut even without his surname. It’s impossible of course to search his name without being flooded with plenty of results about Lars though, and Newt thinks fleetingly that maybe that was why his partner had seemed a little grouchy ( _well, more grouchy than usual_ ) when he had brought him up. Sure what his father had done was cool, world-changing and life-saving, but Newt could see where that would be difficult to live up to.

Hermann doesn’t seem to have any sort of social media presence, which, admittedly isn’t really that much of a surprise, but it is a little bit of a disappointment. For all that Lars Gottlieb became something of a household name two years ago shortly after the first Kaiju attacks started; there is very little information about the rest of the Gottlieb family, and no photos. By the time he’s beginning to feel the siren call of his pillow and sleep, he’s learned surprisingly little more about the young man he’s to spend the rest of the semester working with. Hermann has two brothers- an older, and a younger- one elder sister, and lost his mother a little less than a year ago. Newt wonders briefly if the two of them were close, but isn’t sure of any way to go about asking without stepping on another one of the hidden landmines that seem to surround the mystery that is Hermann Gottlieb. Still, Newt thinks with a yawn, snuggling under his comforter, there’s plenty of lab hours left in the semester to puzzle him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vraFangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)


	2. Filling in the Blanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)

“Tuesdays at 6,” Hermann offers once Newton picks up his phone, because texting back and forth their various scheduling conflicts in the coming weeks to plan when they could meet to finish their homework and labs was simply too inefficient.

“Hello to you too Herman,” Newt teases with something of a smile. God, this guy was always so serious. What would it take to make a guy like Hermann Gottlieb laugh, or even crack a smile? When the older boy doesn’t respond, he sighs. “Can’t do Tuesdays,” he replies. “Aikido.”

“Aikido,” Hermann repeats sounding confused.

“Yeah, you know, it’s a kind of Japanese martial art. Like karate, but more about using your opponent’s strength and attacks against them. Defense, instead of offense?”

“I know what it is Newton,” Hermann interrupts. “I’m just having a difficult time picturing you being quiet or still long enough to participate in it.”

“Well, I never said I was very good,” Newt chuckles, because yeah, he’s not exactly wrong there, he knows it’s not really something anyone would expect of him, but it’s as good an outlet as any for some of his energy. “What about Wednesdays at 4,” he counters.

“Can’t,” Hermann replies immediately, offering no further explanation.

“Huh, I thought the chess club meets on Mondays,” For the briefest of moments, Newt thinks that maybe he heard Hermann chuckle softly, but perhaps it’s just poor reception.

“I wouldn’t know,” Hermann replies dismissively, although there’s a hint of something there in his voice, even if it couldn’t possibly be amusement.

“So if it’s not Chess…” Hermann affects a heavy sigh that Newt is quickly learning to identify as a signal that he’s won.

“Rowing.”

“Like a boat? For the school team? Really, you’re not just saying that to screw with me,” Newt says excitedly, attracting the eyes of a few passing students as he makes his way down to the cafeteria to grab something to eat. “Dude, you’re a super genius _and_ a school athlete? Do you have a letter jacket or anything? When is your first meet? I wanna go.”

“Thursdays at 8?”

“Wow that’s kind of late for that sort of thing isn’t it? I mean that’s well after dark, how is anybody supposed to see what-“

“To meet to work on our lab assignments, Newton,” Hermann says impatiently cutting off Newt’s stream of babbling and endless questions.

“Oh, right. Um, yeah that should work; I don’t have anything Thursday nights. Don’t think I’m just going to forget about this rowing thing though, Herm. That’s fucking awesome.”

“I’ll meet you by Koch on Thursday evening, then,” Hermann replies ignoring Newt’s overtures, and hanging up. He really doesn’t need another person telling him how great it is that he continues to challenge and push himself physically when he’s clearly at a disadvantage to other potential athletes. He knows the school allowing him on the rowing team looks good for their acceptance and diversity. He’s hardly likely to be the next MVP, and his father would say that it’s an unnecessary distraction from his studies, but whether it’s just the University throwing him a bone or not, Hermann _has_ to do this, because it's one of the few sports where his pitiful and traitorous legs won't matter, and because for the moment- _he's still able to_.

…

It’s been a few classes, and several labs since the two of them were paired together, and Hermann is forced to admit that despite his initial reluctance to work with him, Newton whatever his flaws, is a tremendously hard worker. As unlikely as it seems, he might in fact, be the best lab partner he could have hoped for from this semester’s pool of candidates, as their reports and lab results consistently net the pair of them the highest marks. That doesn’t mean that the peculiar younger man has grown on him at all though, Hermann thinks with a slight frown, as they make their way down the hall to the lab for another evening of work for their shared biology class.

“Hey Newt, when are you going to play something _good_ in your sets,” a jocular student in a letterman jacket asks after them as they pass. “How’s a guy supposed to get to second-base with the music you’re playing?”

“Maybe by developing and dating someone with better taste in music,” Newt calls back cheekily with a wink.

Hermann hasn’t actually encountered anything like the sort of bullies that he did in his earlier years of schooling since he started at University. Ignored or dismissed sure, but he’s yet to feel physically threatened here. Even so, Hermann can’t help but feel-not for the first time- Newton is impulsive to the point of sometimes being reckless, but the other boy simply laughs shaking his head.

“You’ve got some balls on you Newt, I’ll give you that. Playing all that noise about sticking it to the man that’s paying for your ride here,” he calls after him.

“Gotta keep them on their toes,” Newt replies cheerfully with a wave.

“Do you play an instrument,” The words are out of Hermann’s mouth before he can really think much about it, or the fact that he’s not supposed to care about anything Newton does outside of their work together for class. Newton looks a little surprised at the question himself. He’s hardly backed down an inch from trying to get to know and entice Hermann into talking about something besides their course work, but Newt wouldn’t exactly call it a rousing success. Perhaps his persistence is finally starting to wear him down.

“No,” Newton replies shaking his head, when he finally seems to recover. “I mean yeah, I play a little keyboard, but not like anything good enough to perform for or in front of anybody else,” he offers quickly. “He’s talking about the stuff I play for the radio station,” he shrugs.

“Oh,” Hermann nods, as he limps into the lab and begins setting up their workstation.

“You ever tuned in,” Newton asks brightly.

“Can’t say as I’ve had the pleasure,” Hermann admits, taking a seat while Newton grabs the rest of their lab equipment for them. Truthfully, somewhere in the back of his mind he was vaguely aware of the University’s radio station, but he’s never really been the sort of student that benefited from listening to music while he worked, generally preferring silence, or at most classical music. Somehow he doubts Newton’s sets include the likes of Tchaikovsky or Beethoven.

“You should give it a listen sometime. I’m on the air on Saturdays from 3 to 6, and intermittently throughout the rest of the week depending on the rest of the line-up. I mean… if you want to,” Newt trails off with a little less confidence and certainty than when he started. Hermann is such a difficult one to read. Somehow he rather doubts that much of the music Newt listens to or plays for the station would be to Hermann’s taste, but there’s only one way to find out, right?

“Sure,” Hermann nods absently. He’s mostly humoring him, but Hermann supposes that it couldn’t hurt to at least give the station and Newton’s music a chance if only to avoid reaching the point where Newt is continually asking if he has yet or not.

…

He was wrong. _So_ wrong, Hermann thinks abruptly muting his laptop from the latest noise that is blasting out of it. Listening to a couple of songs from Newton’s set on the station was _definitely_ painful. One of the songs in question Hermann thinks he probably heard and understood every eighth word (a generous estimate) and sounded a lot more like shouting than anything resembling singing. He’s no expert of course, but he can’t imagine anyone getting to first base with those sorts of songs, let alone second, which he supposes- according to Newton at least- means that he doesn’t a refined ear or taste when it comes to music. But then, he supposes, aside from his interest and work on designing a better Jaeger, Newton would probably find most of his interests and hobbies rather dull. So the best he’s able to manage when Newton asks whether he’s gotten around to tuning in during their next class, he’s probably not terribly convincing when he manages that it was ‘interesting.’ But if his lab partner is surprised or at all troubled by it he does a wonderful job of concealing it. Hermann expects that that might be the end of it, but of course he should have known better.

Newton turns up to the lab the following day equipped with his laptop and has pulled up iTunes before Hermann can even get a word out, peppering about what sort of music that he likes, certain he must have at least a few songs that his lab partner would enjoy in his extensive library. It’s honestly far more interesting to hear what it is that Newton thinks that he might enjoy for the glimpse it provides into the way his partner sees him than to offer up any suggestions or requests.

“No,” Newton asks frowning a little as the first chorus of yet another song transitions to the second verse. “Dang I was sure, I had it there. Alright, so what do you like to listen to then Herms? Assuming you’re not just being difficult, that is," Newton adds with something of a knowing half-smile.

He absolutely is doing this to be difficult, in part because he's just a bit curious to see what it would take to actually frustrate and discourage a perpetual fount of energy and enthusiasm like Newton, but Hermann isn’t about to cop to it. “Herms,” he asks incredulously, Newton simply shrugs. “Not everyone has a problem with their full first name, you know,” he objects. He’d like to scold the other boy about the fact that he is wasting valuable time, but somehow much to his disbelief, Newton is still managing to keep up his end of the leg-work while he’s doing his best to come up with the perfect ‘Lab Partners mix.’

“Alright,” Newt replies, raising his hands in mock surrender. “So, Hermann,” he tries again, dragging the name out for emphasis in a way that has the older boy gripping and dragging his pencil unnecessarily hard against his notebook. “What sort of music do you enjoy?”

Hermann sighs. It doesn’t take a genius, or even the two weeks that the two of them have been working together, to figure out that Newton isn’t about to let this one go. Once he’s set his sights on something, there is very little that seems to discourage him from it. He would admire his tenacity if it weren’t wasted on such ridiculous and petty endeavors. What difference does it make what sort of music that he enjoys listening to, and why on Earth should his lab partner care? Hermann spins the laptop to access the keyboard and ignores Newton’s grin as he pulls up a sample of an opera online just to mess with him and waits for the inevitable complaints and for Newt to steal back his laptop to play something more ‘peppy.’ But Newton falls strangely silent for a moment, before picking back up where they left off with their dissection without comment, and Hermann is surprised to note mouthing along to the words. Newton Geiszler it seems is full of surprises and contradictions.

…

It’s not that Newt didn’t suspect that Hermann, old man that he is, wouldn’t have an appreciation for the classics. Newton can certainly respect golden oldies in most genres, but it’s always fun to try and introduce new things that build on what came before it, that’s what he tries to do with his sets on the radio at least. And Hermann has given him something to work with, whether he actually meant to or not. Probably not, he seems determined to be as recalcitrant as possible when it comes to opening up or volunteering any information about himself. Newt is pretty good at picking up little tells when he takes the time to put his mind to it though. Hermann put up the least amount of protest with music that had clever lyrics which avoided too many clichés, and a good beat. He was not, unfortunately, much of a fan of any of the samplings of punk Newt had played, but Hermann has scarcely said a word about any of the rap, which was certainly a surprise and merited further investigation.

The opera though, Hermann couldn’t have known. Newt might be the second youngest student to have ever been accepted to MIT, but whatever publicity that achievement may have garnered when he first started here have long since passed, and none of the accompanying articles had probed to deep into his family or lineage. Which means Hermann happening to play his mother’s favorite opera, the one which had made her career, decided for her that she was going to continue to pursue music rather than motherhood, had simply been one hell of a coincidence.

Newt doesn’t often think about her, or tries not to dwell on her at least. His father and uncle did the best that they could under the circumstances- those circumstances being his mother hadn’t wanted the burden of raising him, but he didn’t grow up in a home without love. His father, even if he doesn’t entirely understand some of the things that Newt is studying or interested in, has never failed to tell him how much he loves him, how proud he is of him. And his uncle taught him nearly everything he knew about electronics, music, anime and monster movies. But it stings, just a little bit, after the news of his being accepted to MIT so young was made a matter of public information his mother decided to try and get back in touch. The letter is still sitting, only half-read in the top drawer of his desk, and he can’t really explain why he hasn’t managed to throw it away yet. But the idea that maybe, if he had somehow showed more promise, been more interesting at the tender age of one his mother might have decided to keep him around is difficult to banish, and comes back like a bad penny on bad days when he least expects it.

Today is not a bad day though. Today has been an exceptionally good actually, and Newt is determined to keep it that way. So he shoves down the inclination to pull out and finally finish reading his mother’s letter, or looking up and listening to any more opera, and decides to try and continue working on that perfect playlist for him and Hermann to listen to while they are working together in the lab. If his lab partner is determined to keep mum about himself, well then they can at least have a _killer_ soundtrack while they are working on their various assignments together.


	3. Trial

“I still don’t understand the point of all of this,” Hermann grumbles as he and Newton file into a large classroom and take their seats while they wait for the professor that will administer their test.

“Aw, c’mon Herm, it’ll be fun,” Newt replies grinning, completely ignoring his companion’s correction ‘- _mann, Hermann’_ muttered under his breath. “Even the really lame dating sites have some variation of a drift compatibility test now, but this is the real deal. It’s going to take them a few weeks just to compile it all, and compare our results with everyone else’s. This is the actual test the Pan-Pacific Defense Corp uses to estimate the most effective Jaeger pilot teams. That’s awesome! You’re honestly telling me with your studies and project trying to make a better operating system for the Jaegers, this doesn’t have any application or interest for you?”

“Of course it does, but administering the test to the school body at large is ridiculous. It’s a waste of time and resources for the sake of a little amusement. What are any of these students going to do with the information of who they’re most ‘drift compatible’ with? It’s hardly likely to achieve any different results than those horrid dating sites. Hastily made matches that don’t work out because both parties think relationships should come effortlessly simply because they have complimentary traits. Besides most of these students will never be considered, and don’t even aspire to be candidates in the Jaeger Academy,” Hermann scowls, glancing around the room as other students shuffle in.

“But you do,” Newt argues, nudging his shoulder gently against his just to further annoy him.

“To the _Science_ and _Research_ division, Newton,” Hermann sighs impatiently, the way he always does when he thinks that Newt is being particularly slow. “The PPDC has no need for- someone like me- to pilot a Jaeger,” Hermann snaps at him, before accepting one of the tablets the professor is handing out to everyone, and beginning his test.

The room falls silent as everyone begins answering various hypothetical questions to determine their logic, reasoning, tactics, and personality, as well as a few questions which the test makes sure to reiterate is completely anonymous to those scoring them because they are so intensely personal. Hermann completes his test in record time. For a guy that seems to be all about the theoretical work, Newton thinks Hermann must be incredibly decisive. It’s almost a shame that he wouldn’t meet the physical qualifications and demands needed of a Jaeger pilot, and suddenly the thought hits him with the force of an oncoming train, as Newton is wrapping up his last question, _maybe young Hermann Gottlieb’s first dream wasn’t to be some kind of mathematical and scientific savant_.

Newt has never asked about Hermann’s cane or the limp; mostly because he doesn’t have the first idea how. He knows from observations that the severity of the limp, and the slight hunch with which his lab partner walks can vary, and thinks that the level of pain he may be in must also, but Hermann is adamant about not being catered to, or treated any differently, and Newton has seen him lay into those sorry souls who question his abilities. He knows his own limits, although Newt thinks that sometimes he may try to push himself too hard, and Hermann isn’t about to let anyone tell him what they are. Newt finds that he admires that, even if sometimes Hermann can be a bit bullheaded about conceding where he could potentially benefit from having some help.

He wants to ask about it now though; wants to better understand the man behind all those walls Hermann has erected. Newt has never exactly been known for being subtle, but he knows this is important, or that Hermann and this kind of tentative friendship they’re working on has become important to him at least, and what he’s attempting to probe about is a delicate subject matter. He figures the best approach is to keep the conversation feeling casual, act nonchalant, perhaps if it seems as though the matter isn’t important, that Newt doesn’t actually care all that much, he can finally get his lab partner to open up a bit.

“Hey, I forgot to ask,” Newt begins, as though he hasn’t been waiting on pins and needles to hear from Hermann about it. “Did you ever get a chance to listen to that playlist I sent you?”

Hermann sighs softly; it would be too much to ask it seems for the pair of them to have an evening to work together in comfortable and companionable quiet. He doesn’t really feel much like talking, although it doesn’t really come as much of a surprise by now that Newton doesn’t share his appreciation for silence. The interruption of his normal course work and studies for the ridiculous charade of taking the compatibility test has left him in a sour mood, and the fact that his leg had pained him enough to wake him before his alarm this morning, definitely did not help either

“Yes. I did,” he concedes finally. “It was…” he begins, knowing that Newton certainly won’t be leaving him alone any time soon, without at least something of his opinion about it. “Odd choices for background noise,” he concludes finally. The truth of the matter was that Hermann had actually enjoyed the playlist his lab partner had sent him, or at least more of it than he had some of his initial samplings of tuning in to him on the radio. Newt seemed somehow to have deduced at least a handful of songs that he had enjoyed, although Hermann couldn’t have said exactly how he’d accomplished the task. “I suppose it might have to do with a difference in what we study,” he continued thoughtfully after a moment. “The lyrics can generally account for at least 50% of why I appreciate a given song, but when I work they’re a distraction from the numbers. I don’t know how you can listen to any of those songs and still concentrate on what it is you are doing, or maintain a thought.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but having trouble maintaining a thought is kind of my default, dude,” Newt smiles genially, shaking his head.

“And yet you invite in more distraction,” Hermann points out, skeptically.

“A different kind of distraction,” Newt qualifies with a shrug. “Gives my brain one thing to have bouncing around in the background, helps me tune out all the other thoughts or worries I might have in my head trying to bog me down.” Hermann can’t pretend that he entirely understands that, Newton’s choices in music being a kind of white noise, when to him it is anything but; but the reasoning does make a kind of sense: replacing unpredictable variables with a more constant value.

“So what do you like to listen to while you work then?”

“Silence usually,” Hermann acknowledges, but feels a little guilty when he catches the way Newt looks a little embarrassed and sad at the implication, out of the corner of his eye. “But perhaps that’s because I’ve become rather accustomed and stuck in my ways about working alone.” Newt looks up a little surprised, it’s an obvious conclusion, but for Hermann to admit as much, and to suggest that it might even be a potential shortcoming of his is a little disarming. “I listen to classical music sometimes, if it’s not so loud I can’t hear myself think,” he adds, and for a moment, Newt is sure there was the briefest glimmer of a smile there, maybe even- impossibly- directed at him.

“Any favorites?”

Newt still hasn’t managed to ask anything approaching what physical ill Hermann suffers from, but he can’t really bring himself to regret it at the moment. Not when he’s spent the last hour listening to Hermann talk about his favorite composers, something about the math in music that makes it all so beautiful- and even to Newt’s great surprise- a little of his mother who introduced him to it and taught him to play piano.

“Do you still play,” Newton asks before he can help himself.

“Probably not well,” Hermann admits softly. “I haven’t played in quite some time.”

“I have a couple of keyboards in my room,” Newt blurts out, perhaps a bit too eagerly, quickly trying to reign in his enthusiasm for the sake of his more subdued partner. “I mean, I know that’s not exactly the same thing, but if you miss it, or you ever wanted to, you’re welcome to come by and play them. Or borrow one,” he adds hastily, in case Hermann doesn’t really want an audience while he plays, although Newt certainly wouldn’t mind hearing him.

“Thank you,” Hermann replies graciously, with a small smile. “I’ll remember that.” He doesn’t actually expect to find the time of course, but it is kind of Newton to offer, and he’s been- well at least less irritating today than he had anticipated, it would be rude to dismiss the generous offer completely. He’s pushed the thought all but out of his mind with all of the information he’s cramming for mid-terms, when Hermann returns from an early morning class a few days later to find a note from the floor’s RA about a package for him, and picks up one of Newton’s keyboards. As Newt had pointed out and Hermann suspected, it’s not really the same as playing a baby grand; but that may not be such a bad thing, it’s the first time that Hermann has played anything since his mother died. He resolves midway through playing another Beethoven piece to make an effort to go a little easier and attempt to be friendlier with his lab partner. _They are stuck together for the rest of the semester afterall_.

…

Hermann is _not_ disappointed. _He’s not_. Because being disappointed would mean that he actually wanted, expected even, for Newton to show up to one of his rowing events, and that would just be ridiculous. Hermann doesn’t participate to be gawked at. He’s never known anyone to show up at one of the competitions to see him participate, and that’s suited him fine. It’s hardly as though Hermann is a serious enough contender for the title of MVP on the lightweight team to have any sort of fan-base. Anyway, Hermann has made it perfectly clear how annoying he finds Newton to be, and many times reminded him how completely unnecessary and undesirable he finds the idea of them being anything more than lab partners. He should be _thrilled_ that the younger boy is finally taking the hint and leaving him alone, this is afterall what he’s been after for nearly half a semester now isn’t it? Except that Newton had actually seemed… excited when Hermann had admitted to his extracurricular activity. To be fair, Newton usually seemed excited about most, even ridiculous and little things, but something in the awed way that the other boy had asked him about it had affected him. For all his loud and colorful quirks, Newton Geiszler had achieved the impossible, and wormed his way under his skin. True the pair of them bickers over theories and differences in their disciplines nearly as often as they are able to cohesively work together, but they also challenge one another in a way neither of them has been before. He’d thought at first it was purely academic. A potential, unlikely colleague across scientific fields, but now he’s no longer quite so sure…

...

It’s just by accident that Hermann determines that he needs a good cup of coffee or tea in order to continue his studies for his mid-term exams, and forgot to stock up his supplies forcing him to make the trip across the campus to the nearest little grocery with late-night hours on a Tuesday. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembers why Newton isn’t able to meet on Tuesday evenings to work on their labs for biology together, but he’s not really bothered to think about it much since then; Aikido certainly isn’t anything he would be able to participate or be any good in, and it’s not exactly a spectator sort of sport. Except that the small studio whose lights had been off on his way to the market are on now, and there’s a familiar splash, a blur of color and motion that peeks out of a Dogi beyond that window that can only be described as elegant in its fluidity that makes him stop; and Hermann has never seen his lab partner like this before. Calm, centered, smooth… and he absolutely undersold himself. Hermann might not know much about various forms of martial arts, but Newton manages to gain the upper hand over his opponent in a few short, impressive movements. _He’s amazing_. He is _beautiful_.

And the moment that traitorous thought enters Hermann’s head he has to leave, forcing himself to hurry along back to his dormitory and not relaxing until he’s deposited the box of tea on his desk and collapses onto his bed. Hermann does his best to turn his mind back to numbers, figures, some of the questions that might be on some of his exams tomorrow, but trying to get the image of Newton out of his head: dancing around and manipulating his opponent, face a little flushed, hair a tangle of waves, a hint of sweat dripping down his brow, and that little happy smile on his face, just proves hopeless. _It’s just a crush_ , he tells himself as he lies there in the dark after the initial panic has settled a little, desperately trying to force his body to go to sleep, _that’s all._

_..._

_It doesn’t matter_ ; Hermann tells himself as the event begins, forcing his focus on keeping up with the rhythm of the rest of his teammates as their boat pulls ahead of their challenger’s. It’s probably better that Newton didn’t show up. Better to be disappointed now, rather than later. Maybe this will be the push that he needs to get past this ridiculous infatuation that he seems to have somehow developed for him, since nothing can possibly come of it. _Yes_ , Hermann thinks forcing his mind back into what it is his body is currently doing, _it’s for the best._

Except that Newton did turn up. Late, apparently, since Hermann definitely didn’t see his obnoxiously loud shirt for a rock band he’s never heard of amongst the small crowd that came to watch. But he’s right there, immediately after Hermann has breaks away off away the rest of his teammates, telling him and anyone nearby how incredible he was. Hermann has to force himself to focus on and recall half a dozen lines of the code he was working on that morning for the next generation of Jaegers just to keep himself from blushing, or grinning like an idiot, because Newton is prone to gushing like this when he gets overly excited about something, but now it’s directed at _him_. And this is _definitely_ not helping him to get over this crush, or whatever it is that stirring within him where Netwon is concerned. If anything, he’s in danger of suffering a heart attack if the way his heart is threatening to pound straight out of his chest is any indication.

He hardly notices as Newton is suddenly flanked by two older looking men, until the younger boy is introducing him. His father and uncle, Hermann registers, feeling his stomach drop, and his grip tighten on his cane. Because Newton watching and praising him is one thing, thrilling if he’s honest, but he’s still trying to figure out and get a hold of himself; he’s absolutely _not_ ready for the dinner with the family that Newton and his Uncle are suggesting. Hermann makes up some excuse about having something he is going to do with the rest of his teammates that evening instead, although he can _feel_ Newton’s disappointment and disbelief.

“Perhaps next visit then,” Illia Geiszler says with a smile, offering his hand to shake. “It was a pleasure to meet you Hermann, especially after hearing so much about you from Newton.” Hermann doesn’t really have any reason to suspect that his lab partner would have said anything particularly unflattering about him, but the words make him nervous as he switches the hand holding his cane to shake Newton’s Uncle’s hand, then his father’s, and Hermann can’t help but to notice Newt looks distinctly more pink around the ears than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)


	4. Error

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

Newt does his best to let go of his lingering disappointment; his Uncle is right, there will be plenty of other opportunities for he and his father to come visit, and get to know Hermann better, but fighting even a lingering sense of rejection has never come easy for him. He tries though, because it isn’t really fair to allow himself to wallow when his family has made a point of making a trip up to the campus to see him. It’s not as if he wasn’t aware before now that Hermann isn’t really what anyone might call a ‘people person,’ and he’d at least been polite when Newt had introduced him, but… well, Newt had thought that the two of them were really starting to make some sort of progress towards at _least_ being friendly with one another. Hermann had told him, more than once that it wasn’t any sort of requirement for them to be friends in order to be effective lab partners. But he hadn’t actually reminded Newt of that fact lately.

Besides they actually _talked_ to one another while they were working now, nearly as often as they fell into debates or arguments about their studies, Hermann even occasionally replies to his sporadic or sillier text messages. And Hermann had opened up to him a little about his interests, his family, even admitted to being a little bit homesick- _although he’d been quick to say that that was ridiculous and childish on his part with so much important work to be done_. Newt had to admire the way Hermann was almost always so singularly focused, so rarely distracted from his goals, but it was infuriating too. Hermann might be on the school’s rowing team, but Newt is confident he at least knows his lab partner well enough to know he isn’t much for team spirit. If the team was doing anything to celebrate their victory that evening, then Hermann wasn’t likely to be joining in- he might not even have been invited. But he had turned down the invitation of dinner with him and his father and uncle; and yeah, maybe it’s stupid, maybe it’s his own insecurities and broken neurochemistry and nuero-pathways at work, but Newt needs to know why if he’s to have any hope of shutting up some of those negative thoughts that keep running through his head. That falls under his father’s parting instruction mid-hug to _be kind to himself,_ doesn’t it?

He thinks about texting his lab partner, but in the end decides against it. If there is any chance that Hermann did have some sort pre-planned of social activity after the meet today, Newt doesn’t want to bother him. They’re meeting tomorrow evening for their next round of lab work for biology anyway, Newt can find a way to hold himself together until then, he thinks, busying himself with a late night monster-movie marathon on TV.

He means to wait a little while after they are into their work, to make some kind of smooth and seamless transition into asking about it- maybe inquire about Hermann’s evening out with the team, and see how he responds first, but Newt has always struggled a bit with fighting to keep impulsive thought from becoming impulsive action. “I wish you could have out with us yesterday,” he admits before he can stop himself. If Hermann is surprised that Newt is bringing up the subject of the impromptu dinner his father and uncle had invited him to, he doesn’t show it. Rather he looks resigned, mouth drawing into a thin line, before he replies.

“And I wish you hadn’t sprung your family on me,” Hermann replies a bit testily. If he can just rile up Newt enough to argue with him, let it dissolve into something familiar- a petty and unimportant debate about science versus maths- maybe he won’t have to contend with the long face and sad eyes Newton keeps shooting his way ever since they met outside the lab today. Maybe then Newt will forget the whole business, and Hermann can forget about how much his back is protesting yesterday’s activities, and the fact that he might be falling for his lab partner.

“Wha- But I- I didn’t even know they coming. They decided to surprise me, and then I told them I had planned to go see you and the rest of the rowing team compete, so they decided to tag along,” Newt explains feeling a little defensive and ridiculous having to explain himself. “What exactly is wrong with my family?”

“What exactly did you tell them about me,” Hermann asks, ignoring the question.

“Nothing,” Newt replies immediately. “I mean all good things, just- that we’ve been working together for class, and… And that you’re incredibly smart. And-” _And you challenge me. You make me feel less lonely. And you make me laugh, even though you probably aren’t even trying or meaning to…_ Newt thinks, but by some miracle he manages to bite his tongue, and preserve a little bit of his dignity. “Nothing! Nothing bad, what is this? I don’t understand, Hermann. Why are you acting like this?”

“Because we’re _just_ lab partners,” Hermann snaps shaking his head, doing his best to convince himself as much as the younger boy. “You don’t need to show up to my competitions, and you certainly don’t need to introduce me or invite me out to dinner with your father and uncle.”

“But we don’t have to be just- I thought…”

“No, you didn’t think,” Hermann interrupts. “And you don’t listen. I don’t need your playlists, you cheering me on at meets, or your friendship. I don’t need anything but a lab partner I can count on to do his share of the coursework until this semester is over. I transferred to finish my degree and apply to the Jaeger Academy. I’m not staying here Newton, nothing you did or said was ever going to change that. I don’t need any distractions, and I don’t need you. If you’re that desperate to be liked and have someone’s approval, you’re better off looking somewhere and with somebody else.”

Newton looks like Hermann has just punched him in the gut, and for a moment seems unable to do or to say anything but stare at him blankly, blinking and mouth agape trying to process everything he’s said. Hermann already wants to take it all back. He hadn’t meant all of that, and he certainly hadn’t actually wanted to hurt him. He- Well, Hermann doesn’t actually know what he wanted to result from the conversation, except that he wanted to go back to the way they were before, to lab partners, to friendly debates, and Newton getting on his nerves and peppering him with questions. But the fact of the matter is that Newton’s not responsible for the biggest changes in their relationship this last week. Newton wants them to be friends. It’s not such an unreasonable or even unpleasant request. It’s Hermann that can’t stop thinking about him in an entirely different and impossible light anymore; Hermann that’s being selfish- pushing him away before Newton can catch on and inevitably rejects him.

“Right,” Newt manages finally, swallowing hard, and willing his voice not to break, not to choke with the way his throat feels like it’s closing up, like he can’t breathe. _Not here_ , he thinks desperately, clenching his fists, attempting to keep himself centered and present, to inhale and exhale. _Not here._ “I, um… I’m going to go,” Newt manages, scooping up his bag and dashing away and out the door as quickly as he possibly can. Hermann is calling after him to wait, even going to the trouble of calling him Newt for the first and probably last time, but he can’t stop, can’t turn around and face him again, and certainly not now when it’s taking everything he has to walk away and keep it together long enough to get someplace he can feel safe.

He doesn’t know how exactly he gets back to his room. He’d pretty much wanted to collapse and curl in on himself the moment he left the lab, but Newt’s had enough panic attacks to know better. He needed a quiet, dark, warm and comfortable- a familiar place, if possible if he wants to better manage his oncoming panic attack. Most of all, he needed to be somewhere, anywhere where Hermann won’t accidentally stumble upon him while he’s a non-verbal puddle of nerves and raw emotion.

…

"[Dummkopf! Sohn von einem Weibchen](),” Hermann swears loudly as the door to the lab slams shut behind Newt’s fast retreating form. Hermann knows far better by now, but kicks the nearest table leg in his frustration anyway, before unleashing a fresh string of swears and forcing himself to sit down and take the weight off of his now throbbing foot. If there was any chance of catching up with Newton before, there certainly isn’t now. Not that Newton would want to see or talk to him now. _Gott how could he have been so stupid? So cold?_

…

Hermann watches the door and periodically checks the clock for the duration of their shared Biology course the following morning, but Newton never shows up. He’d expected the silent treatment, perhaps even, that his lab partner would take up a different seat as far away from him as possible, Hermann knows he would have that coming to him after the things he said and the way he treated him. And really, what had Newton ever done to deserve any of that? _Nothing_ , Hermann thinks darkly as he gathers up his things and leaves with the rest of the class.

“Gottlieb,” a loud, unfamiliar voice calls, bringing him to a halt just outside of the room. “I need a word,” a stocky taller young woman says making his way over to him. Hermann lets his bag drop to the floor beside him, no sense in bearing the weight if this conversation will take any length of time, and straightens up with the help of his cane. Most of his peers have learned better than to bother to try and interact with him, only Newton was foolish enough to keep at it. _And look where that got him_ , he thinks bitterly, frowning a little as the other student introduces herself as one of the nearby dorms RA’s, before cutting straight to the chase and catching him a little off-guard. “Look I don’t know what happened between you and one of the students on my floor, Newt Geiszler,” she says, causing Hermann’s head to snap to attention where he was only half listening before. “Frankly it’s not really my business, and I don’t particularly care. Word around campus is that you’re pretty smart, but I’m going to keep this really simple for you. Whatever you did, you either need to fix it, or stay the hell away from Newt, got it? We all know he’s a little bit of odd, but the fact of the matter is he’s brilliant and that’s just part of the package. He’s a good enough egg, and his research with creating artificial tissue? It’s going to change the field of medical science and the future as we know it. Maybe that doesn’t seem too important to somebody whose daddy came up with Jaegers, but it’s a big deal. But Newt’s not going to have a chance to change anything if he keeps finding himself in the kind of state he was in last night.”

“What? What are you talking about,” Hermann asks, paling a little.

“I’m talking about his neighbor coming to me worried about the massive amount of alcohol he took it upon himself to consume last night. I had people checking in on him into the early morning hours just to make sure he wasn’t suffering alcohol poisoning or didn’t choke on vomit, because he _begged_ me not to have him taken to the hospital or checked out by anyone that might report him for being underage, and nobody wants to see him expelled.”

“Gott,” Hermann whispers, gripping his cane a little tighter while his mind is flooded with the picture that she is painting; Newton hurting-maybe crying- drinking far too much, and later prone on his bed, reeking of booze, so _still_ …

“Yeah,” she nods seriously, glaring down at him. “So do me, and Newt, a favor and figure your shit out or get gone.”

Hermann thinks that maybe he managed to nod, because he can’t really find the words to actually say anything, but can’t be sure if it’s anything approaching how seriously he’s taking the young woman’s warning, before she takes her leave of him. It wouldn’t have been his first choice, but it occurs to Hermann while he’s standing there, not really seeing as a sea of students between classes pass him by in the busy hallway that he doesn’t actually know where Newton’s dormitory is, so he tries his phone first. He might still be hungover or sleeping, Hermann thinks when it rings a few times with no answer. Newton’s voice fills his ear, but it’s just his outgoing recording. He doesn’t sound completely inebreiated in it, but it’s obviously a newly recorded message, because this isn’t the one Hermann’s heard when he’s had the occasion to call him before about changing their meeting time or place for their lab work.

“ _Hi you’ve reached Newt Geiszler_ ,” the voicemail says, Newt clearly putting in an effort to sound more composed than he probably is. “ _I can’t answer my phone right now, but if you leave me a message with your name and number, I’ll give you a call back as soon as I can. Unless this is my 'lab partner', in which case feel free to just hang up and I won’t waste any more of your time._ ”

“Newt,” Hermann begins, aware how much the name sounds like a plea, but unable to bring himself to care. “Newton, I just had a run in with your RA and she was concerned about you. I- _I am concerned about you._ I’m sorry about last night. I was- I was being stupid. And cruel. You didn’t deserve that. [ Es tut mir Leid. ]() Please pick up.“ Hermann sighs softly listening to the crackle of static over the line.“Alright. I understand I’m probably the last person you want to see or talk to right now, but I would like to see you. I’d like to talk to you. To apologize in person, but I don’t know your dormitory or room number. Can you call me at least? When you’re ready?“ Hermann doesn’t know what else to say, and waits a moment longer just to see if maybe Newton will pick up his phone. He doesn’t.

...

It's stupid, Newt knows. He must look ridiculous like this: curled up in the biggest sweater he could find in his closet huddled around a gallon of ice cream that already half-gone and he's barely remembered to taste. He's turned off his phone after the fourth call and voicemail from Hermann. Newt can’t imagine what else he could possibly have to say to or about him, but he can’t bring himself to listen to any of them. He’s not crying anymore at least, but more because he's exhausted his tear ducts supply than anything else. Normally he'd retreat into one of his favorite monster movies, or maybe an anime, and enjoy the familiar sense of nostalgia from those days when he would watch them with his uncle, but not today. He doesn't want to think about how abnormal his interests passions are, or what a freak he is. He wants someone to tell him that it's alright.

" _I'm afraid so_ ," Alice says from the screen of his laptop as Newt smiles ruefully, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream to his mouth. " _Entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret-_ "

"All the best people are," Newt finishes softly with a sniff.

…

“ _Hi you’ve reached Newt Geiszler. I can’t answer my phone right now, but if you leave me a message with your name and number, I’ll give you a call back as soon as I can. Hermann if this is you, if I wanted to talk or hear from you I’d pick up. Stop leaving messages and clogging up my inbox. It might just be possible that someone else may want or need to leave me a message._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dummkopf!_ (Idiot)
> 
>  _Sohn von einem Weibchen_ (son of a bitch)
> 
>  _Es tut mir Leid._ (I am sorry)


	5. Reapplication Study

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

“ _That’s_ the best that you’ve got,” Newt asks, voice dripping with distain and disbelief, cold in a way that Hermann has never heard before, and he definitely doesn’t like, particularly since it’s directed at him, however justified it may be. “ _I don’t know how to have friends_ ,” the younger boy repeats, shaking his head. “That’s [Scheiße](), as excuses go, you know.“  Hermann doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know what he can say that will make any of it better, because the truth- in it’s entirety can only make the situation _so_ much worse. The whole of it is that Hermann doesn’t know how to be _just_ Newton’s friend. He doesn’t know how to spend time with him or be close to him anymore without falling even harder for him than he already has, and the knowledge that Newton is never going to feel that same way about him has done absolutely nothing to detrer him. It’s an oncoming collision that can only end horribly, but equally unbearable is the thought of losing Newton entirely. He may never know how close that came to actually happening the night of their fight when his next door neighbor on the dormitory floor had found him. He’s not sure that he wants to. And he’d rather, much as it pains him to admit to the weakness, have Newton now- as a friend- for as long as he can, and hurt later, than not have him around at all.

“How long have you been out here,” Newt asks finally, glancing to where Hermann has propped both himself and his cane up against the wall just outside his door. Because yeah, Newt had heard him knocking and asking him to open up awhile ago, but he hadn’t actually thought that Hermann would stick around after he had started blasting some of his music to tune him out.

“I don’t know,” Hermann replies honestly with a small half-shrug. “A few hours? Since I found someone in the cafeteria who knew your where your room was, and you told me to go away.” 

“Doesn’t it hurt? Sitting there like that, for that long,” Newt asks curiously.

“A little,” Hermann replies honestly. 

“Good,” Newt replies bitterly, backing into his room once more and shutting the door on him. And yeah, he thinks with a heavy sigh, Hermann supposes he deserved that. … 

It’s probably not Hermann’s intention to trap him by waiting out in the hallway by his door, but Newton doesn’t leave his room for another hour just to make sure he doesn’t have to see or speak to him again. Hermann will _have_ to have given up by now. It half works. By the time his stomach has begun grumbling for something other and more substantial than the plethora of junk foods that he keeps stocked in one of his desk drawers, forcing him to venture out to procure something else, he doesn’t have to speak to Hermann because he’s fallen asleep right where Newt left him.

He looks exhausted. And the position that he’s fallen asleep in cannot possibly be comfortable. Newt is sure while he’s still not certain why or what exactly gives the other boy pains, which allowing him to continue to sleep like this will not be doing his body any favors. He’s still mad at him. But he’s also still not sure how much of it he has a right to be. Hermann was an ass sure, but if he’s being honest with himself, his lab partner always was a bit. Newton had grown to like him in spite of it, or perhaps even because of it. Maybe he got some things mixed up, but he’s always been aware of Hermann’s bite. That doesn’t mean Hermann was right to say any of those things of course, but he hadn’t been entirely wrong either, which is probably why the words had hurt him so much. Newt has, if not always then, for quite some time been aware that he will probably always need others more than they need him. Will always live his life with varying degrees of fear that the people he loves and cares about will eventually find some fatal flaw within him and determine they can no longer live with it, that he and his brilliant but messed up brain with all its neuroses is no longer worth the effort. And that’s where he had screwed it all up with Hermann, the way he always has. _He cared_.

Hermann had warned him, right from the very start, he wasn’t looking to become in any way invested in anything permanent, but Newt couldn’t seem to help it. He never could. Hermann hadn’t made it easy to get to know him, there’s still so much about him Newt wonders about, but with each little piece of the puzzle uncovered, he’d found another reason to admire and to like Hermann Gottlieb, in spite of the other’s attempts to keep him at arm’s length. A lot more than he ever actually expected too; and possibly, although Newt has been rather too afraid to look too much into it, more than simply friendly affection.

“Alright Hermann, you [störrischen Esel](), [aufstehen](),“ Newt whispers softly with a sigh, his resolve to ignore and leave him there sufficiently weakened as he kneels down and carefully slides his arms underneath his lithe and crumpled form, lifting him into his arms and carrying him carefully back into his room. Hermann must be tired, because the older boy scarcely stirs as he deposits him gently on his bed, arranging the pillows around his body, against the hip he seems to favor, in a way he hopes will make up for his sleeping against the wall until he’d discovered him. 

”Newt,“ Hermann whispers in a raspy sleep-laiden voice, one hand reaching blindly out as he pulls away. "[Bitte](),“ he whines desperately, without opening his eyes or giving any further indication of conciousness, ”[verzeih mir](). [Es tut mir leid]().“ 

”Shhhh,“ Newt soothes, allowing one hand just for a moment to smooth some of the longer strands of his hair which have become mussed in transporting him. There’s a fleeting, traitorous sort of thrill that races through Newt at being able to touch the other boy like this, but with it the guilt of the knowledge Hermann would never stand for it if he were awake and aware of it. Newt does his best to cherish it while he can, without allowing himself to get too used to it. “Get some rest, you look like shit. I’ll be back. I just have to go get some food,“ he promises. Hermann settles a little with a soft hum of what he hopes is approval at Newt‘s fleeting and gentle touch, though whether he’s actually registered any of what he’s said, Newt can’t be certain. 

Newt’s never thought of Hermann as fragile since getting to know him, cane or no. In fact he’s pretty sure some days that Hermann might just be the toughest and strongest person he knows in all that ways that really count. But he does look... delicate, softer in sleep, than he often does in waking. He’s relaxed in a way, Newt thinks Hermann may be afraid of allowing himself to be, or at least be seen by anyone else, and Newt can kind of understand that, even if the thought makes him a little sad for him. Long lashes flutter softly while his eyes move behind eyelids, and Newt wonders briefly what he might be dreaming about, taking in the soft and steady rise and fall of Hermann’s chest, his those sharp, distinguished cheekbones he’s admired, before finally forcing himself to look away. 

Hermann called him and left no less than six voicemails, and had searched and actually _talked_ to random students until he found one that knew where Newt’s room was. He camped outside the fucking door just for the chance to apologize and talk to him. Newt isn’t entirely sure what to make of that, but he is sure that no one has ever gone to that kind of trouble for him before, and that knowledge, _does things to him._ And _fuck_ , he needs to get out of here, and clear his head, _yesterday_. 

He doesn’t know if Hermann has had anything to eat since taking up his post outside his door, and thinks about grabbing him something while he’s getting some food for himself. Newt doesn’t think that there can be any harm in bringing back some kind of dish for him, but Newt is still a little shaken up; can’t stop hearing the older boy’s words echoing in his mind. _Is he being too codependent? Seeking his approval somehow by grabbing him something to eat as well?_ Newt can’t seem to stop second-guessing himself. He supposes that’s as good an argument as any to at least hear whatever else it is that Hermann may have to say for himself and what he had said a few days ago whenever he gets back and the other boy wakes up. He doubts he could get any more confused, or feel more muddled than he already is, and finally decides on Hsin Hsin, keeping his fingers crossed that Hermann will find at least something in the bag full of various Chinese food offerings he selected that he might like, before mentally kicking himself for still worrying and caring about it as he makes his way back across campus.

… 

Hermann’s body feels heavy, his eyelids especially so as he blinks through bleary eyes to take in his surroundings, and comes to rather abruptly when everything looks unfamiliar. This is not his bed. And several dozen posters of various monster movies, Kaijus, Jaegers, and works of Science-fiction cover the nearest wall. Hermann struggles against the comforter in an effort to sit up, and while he’s never had terribly much occasion to make note of it before, registers that it smells somehow in a way that he’s come to associate as a distinctive combination that belongs only to Newt. His legs and back feel sore and just this side of stiff after having put it through its paces in order to find and wait out Newton until he was ready to see and talk to him, but they could easily be worse, he reminds himself. They have been before, and for far less important reasons, sometimes no reason at all. This ache at least has been earned, and Hermann’s not one to be prone to self-flagellation, but maybe he thinks, this is his penance for hurting Newton with some of the things he said. 

Hermann’s still just tired and paranoid enough waking up somewhere strange to dive for his cane where it was leaning up against the bed, and hold it high to defend himself as the sounds of the lock call his attention to the door just before it swings open. Newton startles a little at the sight, before he laughs at him.

“Jesus Herm, calm down before you hurt yourself, or this _incredibly_ _dangerous_ bag of take-out,” Newt teases as he sets the bag down on his desk and lazily toes his way out of his shoes. “Honestly, who were you expecting to walk through that door and what exactly were you going to do with your cane?” 

It’s so good to see a smile on Newt’s face and hear him laugh again; Hermann doesn’t even mind that it’s at his expense. He’s a little reluctant to break the moment of almost tranquility, this sense of things being almost what they had been before he made a mess of it, but another profuse apology is out of his mouth before he can stop it, or give it terribly much thought. Newt sighs as if he probably expected this, but shakes his head, taking the seat at the desk across from him, while Hermann slowly fights his way to sit on the edge of the bed to put them on more equal footing. 

“Look it’s-“ Newt begins before shaking his head and thinking about it for a moment, then starting over. “No, it’s not okay. The things you said, well they might have been kinda true, but they were hurtful Hermann. It’s not going to do either of us any good getting past this or going forward for me to pretend it wasn’t.”  

“But this is me,” the younger boy continues with a shrug, gesturing towards himself. “This is how my brain works. How I work. I get excited, attached, maybe over-invest: in hobbies, in interests, in people… And you’re the first person I’ve met in a long time, maybe ever who I felt even close to being on a level-playing field academically. Better, I mean, well, you’re _brilliant_ , you challenge me and my theories, get me to think in ways and question things I never would have thought of on my own. And this is going to sound absolutely ridiculous, but you know what? I’m even a little bit jealous of you, dude. People usually have to get to know me a little better before they realize I’m a bit hobbled myself. I’m sure it’s no cakewalk, but at least with yours being more visible you can weed out some of the assholes right off the bat. I get to know them, and get all attached, and then they bug out.” Newt halts a moment, biting his lip as he considers the other boy across from him, but Hermann is doing his best just to take it all in, and let Newton talk the way he didn’t give him the chance to when they had their fight in the lab. 

“I’m sorry that was a stupid thing to say. I’m butchering this whole thing, aren’t I? I do that. A lot more than I’d like to, really. It’s just sometimes I know what I want to say, but the words never seem to come out right, or at least not in a way other people will understand what I meant. And some days I’m- maybe a bit hyper and overenthusiastic, but other days I might feel… rejected, lonely, sad. I _am_ needy,” he admits honestly, looking a little embarrassed, and more than a little vulnerable when he brings his eyes up to meet Hermann’s again. “And sometimes I’m nervous, and kind of a live-wire, and I’m pretty much _always_ a bit eccentric and neurotic. And you’re right. I _do_ need to know that people like and approve of me sometimes. In a perfect world and with flawless brain chemistry maybe it would be different, but none of that is likely to change. I know that it’s a lot to deal with, believe me; I’ve been dealing with it my whole life. So if this isn’t something you think you want to deal with, I’ll understand, but we’re better off establishing that now. It’ll hurt at first, but I’ll recover. But if you think you might be up for it, I think- well I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with and talking to you even if it’s just over our labs, but I’d love to do it more if your calendar and that to-do list of yours has room somewhere for a friend.” 

“I mean, I know you said when we met that you weren’t interested in anything besides a lab partner, and you said you don’t really know how, but you did lay out there for who knows how long in the hallway today just to talk to me,” Newt points out with a kind of half-nervous, half-hopeful grin at the corner of his mouth. “And, really? That was kinda stupid for a guy as smart as you; I mean that had to hurt, and what the hell do you care what some crazy weirdo like me thinks about what you said?” 

Newton is babbling now, and Hermann’s resolution to stay quiet and hear him out without butting in seems to have been a good one to a point- _a point they are quickly approaching, if they haven’t reached that threshold already._  

“Newt,” Hermann interrupts softly, bringing the other boy’s nervous mumblings to a halt. “I- I have never been very good at expressing my emotions, or letting people in. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t really know how to have friends. I’ve had very few of them, and so far retained none. That’s not exactly an encouraging track record. I push people away before they can get to close to me, because nothing and nobody is permanent. I am more comfortable with and relate better to numbers and black and white concepts than I do most people. I’ve never fit in, rarely felt understood, and with my father’s work being what it was we moved quite frequently. Hospitals were about the only constant and consistent thing I had growing up, and I don’t remember them fondly,” he admits a bit bitterly. 

“That sounds lonely,” Newt frowns a little at the thought of Hermann all alone with just his notebooks full of equations, sitting or laying endless hours in the hospital while he’s being poked and prodded at. 

“Sometimes,” Hermann acknowledges for the first and probably the only time to anyone. “But it’s all I’ve ever known.” 

“Well,” Newt hedges softly. “You think you might be interested in getting to know something a little different? I mean, I don’t know that I’ll always understand you,” the younger boy admits with a shrug. “And I can’t pretend that I totally understand all of your genius math stuff, but if you can live with that, then I can probably forgive you for not being too keen on the Punk rock scene,” Newt offers up jokingly with a small, hopeful little smile. “I mean, you’re a pretty cool guy otherwise,” he teases. 

“I’d like that,” Hermann nods with the smallest hint of a smile. 

“Awesome,” Newt beams, nodding. “Now that’s settled then, let’s divide and conquer, I am _starving_ ,” he says, grabbing the bag of takeout boxes and beginning to unload them onto the desk for Hermann to look through and decide what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Scheiße_ (shit)  
>  _störrischen Esel_ (stubborn ass)  
>  _Aufstehen_ (get up)  
>  _Bitte verzeih mir_ (please forgive me)  
>  _Es tut mir leid_ (I am sorry)


	6. Activation Energy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)

This is _not_ what hanging out with a friend looks like, Newt thinks shaking his head with a half amused smile as he does his best to straighten out his bow-tie in the mirror. This is what a _date_ looks like, and if it wasn’t Hermann he was going out with this evening, Newt would be all but sure that’s what this is. He can count on one hand the number of times that he’s worn this suit before; mostly begrudgingly for those family events, or when he’d needed to suck up to potential investors for grants for his research projects where his favorite lucky leather jacket simply wasn’t going to cut it. He always feels out of place in them somehow, like it’s too tight, or ill-fitted, even though it’s tailored for him; like he’s trying to be something he isn’t, and utterly failing at it. _Nope, that still doesn’t look straight_ , Newt thinks, pulling the tie back off with a huff.

Newt glances sideways at his phone where it’s sitting on the bathroom counter and not for the first time that evening, considers calling Hermann to tell him he can’t make it, before remembering how adorably awkward (maybe even nervous?) the other boy had been when he asked him to come with him and thinking better of it. Hermann has finally put the finishing touches on the program he’s been writing for a new generation of Jaegers and will be presenting it at a fundraiser for some representatives from the PPDC at some swanky hotel across town. And Hermann wanted him to go, to be there with him, so Newt can’t let his nerves get the better of him now. Besides Hermann is never late, which means he’s sure to have left and be on his way over already. No, Newt will make himself look sharp and presentable, and do his utmost to behave and not step on any toes. He ought to be able to manage that for an hour or two, for Hermann’s sake at least.

…

“I’m no good at these sorts of social events,” Hermann had admitted when he’d first asked about it, and Newt had to do his damnedest not to laugh, or to ask whether there were _any_ sorts of social events Hermann enjoyed or was good at. But he’s clearly trying not to work himself up too much about the whole thing, and he gets that, he really does, so Newt decides to make a self-depreciating joke, and try to make light of the situation as much as he can.

“So you’re first thought was to invite _me_ to come along?”

“People _like_ you,” Hermann shrugged.

“Or hate me, if they’re around long enough,” Newt points out, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just because you’re stupid enough to keep me around...” _And_ _wow, how cool is it that they’re back to a place where he can make a joke like that without thinking or having to worry about Hermann understanding it for what it is._

“That’s okay,” Hermann replies almost too quickly, as if he was rather expecting to be shot down. “It’s a bit soon, I suppose- I know I was a prat before, and we’ve only just agreed to be friends and-“

“Hermann, water under the bridge, dude. Honestly,” Newt promises, putting a hand over his heart for emphasis, and because sometimes he does like to be a bit dramatic. “Of course I’ll go to this fancy dinner fundraiser with you.” And it isn’t the first time that Newt’s ever seen Hermann smile, even if he is a stingy bastard with them most of the time. And maybe he’s just being sentimental, or still riding on the high that someone as awesome as Hermann Gottlieb wants to be his friend, but Newt thinks that this smile is fucking awesome, _and he helped put it there_.

…

Hermann isn’t sure what inspired him to invite Newton, the words are out of his mouth after he’d received his invitation before he can give it much thought. The truth of the matter is while Lars Gottlieb, would no doubt have had an effortless and wonderful time schmoozing amongst various VIP, being something of a veteran of many such functions, Hermann is downright terrified. Not that there is anything wrong with the program that he’s written, of course. But talking about and explaining it to a room full of people, a crowd that’s sure to recognize his last name, and  perhaps less than a quarter of which will actually understand his code and its applications, is daunting, exhausting just thinking about; and the idea of doing so alone, completely unbearable. Unthinkable as it would have been several months ago, Hermann cannot think of anyone that he’d rather have there to support him than Newton.

He adjusts his cuffs again, and does his best to ignore the stares of his fellow students as he makes his way across campus in his suit. Newt has a car and had insisted on driving them both, because ‘If you’re making me wear a monkey suit, we are _not_ taking the bus _,’_ which Hermann has to agree even without having seen Newton’s car or his driving skills already sounds infinitely better than trying to brave and survive public transit in this attire, however brief the trip would be. Fancy dress or not, Hermann has never been particularly fond of public transit anyway for the often cramped conditions, and the consummate reminder people are morally obliged to offer him a seat.

Newt answers the door a little breathless a few moments after he’s knocked, and Hermann bites the inside of his cheek to remind himself not to gape at the spectacular sight that is Newton Geiszler in a suit. Newt it seems doesn’t share his compunction.

“Wow,” the younger boy manages a bit stupidly, standing in the doorway. _Holy fuck Hermann_ , _that’s what you’re hiding under those baggy sweaters and worn out jackets,_ Newt thinks, struggling to get a hold of his tongue and _say something, gott._ “Hermann you look… terrific,” Newt manages finally, although he has that frustrated look he always gets when he’s disappointed by a word that doesn’t entirely convey what it is he wants to express. “Come on in for a second, I’m sorry I always seem to have a bit of trouble with ties.”

“But you wear one all the time,” Hermann points out incredulously as he lets himself in, closing the door behind him.

Newt nods towards the bathroom door where his usual skinny tie is still knotted and looped over the knob. “That one? Can’t even remember the last time I unknotted it. Probably couldn’t now if I wanted to,” he laughs. “But it doesn’t quite match, and this is your big night, gotta do it up right, man. Just give me a sec and I’ll get this thing straightened out,” Newt assures him. Hermann does his best not to blush, because this night is far from all about him, but it’s nice to hear, nicer still that Newt believes that even if he doesn’t completely understand all of his work.

“I could help,” Hermann offers softly, watching Newt curse in German and English under his breath as he undoes his work to start over again.

“Oh,” Newt says a little surprised, and Hermann’s a little worried he’s totally miscalculated, except that he’s actually pretty good at ties even though usually prefers his sweaters or vests, and Newt is turning around and looking so earnest with his big green puppy-dog eyes. “Would you mind?” Hermann does his best to shoot Newt a withering look, because why would he have bothered offering if he minded, but he can’t bring himself to be even a little mean right now, he’s too thrilled Newton has agreed to come out and support him tonight. The corners of his mouth twitch a little with a hint of a fond smile, shaking his head, as long fingers gently reach up and take up the two ends and begin fixing his tie with infinite care. He feels his fingers brush softly against the warm skin at Newton’s throat, and by some miracle manages not to let them linger or blush as Newt swallows softly.

“T-Thanks,” Newt manages, trying to get a hold of himself, because it’s not like this is the first time that he’s noticed Hermann can be sort of cute, but tonight he looks incredible. This isn’t a date, but damn if Newt doesn’t find himself fleetingly wishing it was. Newt does his best to push those sorts of thoughts out of his head though, because he is _not_ going to be responsible for fucking up one of the best things he has going for him right now, because he got greedy.

…

Newt bites his lip as the two of them load into his car. He and Hermann seem to be in a good place again, after their fight and later discussion where he’d conceded to actually trying to be friends with one another. Hermann has invited him to something that’s important to him, so Newt really doesn’t want to screw this up, but this is what happens when he cares about someone- he worries. He’s always been far better at protecting and caring for other people than he has himself, but Hermann doesn’t generally appreciate feeling coddled in any way.

“Dude, please don’t get mad,” Newt says softly, the request almost a prayer at this point, because he knows he’s about to attempt to navigate a minefield. “Promise I’ll only ask you this once, but are you sure? I could go grab it for you real quick if you wanna toss me your keys. Just in case?”

“Newton,” Hermann begins sharply, but the older boy softens a little at the genuine look of concern on the other boy’s face. This isn’t like the bus or when random strangers shoot him sympathetic and pitying looks when they take notice, it’s just Newt, doing his best to be a friend. “No, I’ll be fine. The presentation shouldn’t take more than a half hour. It isn’t so bad today, and I’m wearing a brace for my back,” offers up, hoping Newt will stick by his promise not to continue to press him about leaving his cane behind. “I- I don’t want to be the cripple this evening,” he admits softer still, and Newt nods, starting the car and pulling out into traffic.

“You know that’s not nearly all you are, don’t you Herms,” Newt says softly when they stop at a light. _Some days_ , Hermann thinks, staring unseeing out the window so he doesn’t have to look at Newton, doesn’t have to think about how handsome he looks in his suit, or how the idea that Newt worries about him, but respects him enough to trust he knows his limits makes his stomach feel as though it’s doing flip-flops. Newt puts on some music, and it’s not the worst he’s ever played around him, allowing them both to lapse into comfortable silence.

…

Hermann presents his new code, and manages to get through a simplified explanation of what it will be able to do for Jaegers and more importantly their pilots once it is implemented without any mistakes or incident, and manages to shake most of his discomfort speaking to the large crowd by looking just over their heads, and every now and again stealing glances over to Newton at their table, who smiles and winks back at him. Newt doesn’t catcall or whistle the way Hermann almost expected he might do, but he is easily the most enthusiastic when the group applauds after he’s finished. Dinner and a few other, smaller presentations pass without much fanfare as the evening begins to wind down, tables dissolving once more into quiet conversation amongst themselves, while some of the more key figures from the PPDC in attendance play musical chairs around the room.

Hermann can feel the moment every muscle in his body seems to tense simultaneously, the chill that rushes over him as though he has suddenly been doused with ice water, and locks his knees to prevent himself from stumbling in shock. _Dr. Geiszler?_ Distantly he registers his companion’s immediate correction, for the group to call him Newt, but it sounds far away, muffled by his brain’s desperate attempt to catch up and process this new bit of information. He doesn’t suppose it’s a feeling that anyone truly enjoys, but Hermann has always loathed feeling stupid or slow, like he’s the last one to know something, even if in this instance it’s probably as much his fault as it is Newton’s. How long had it taken him before he had stopped merely tuning out Newt’s constant stream of consciousness and actually started listening to him? Was it possible he’d said anything about this before? _No,_ Hermann feels confident that he would have deemed that relevant and interesting enough to have remembered, even asked a question or two. How could Newt have told him about his sometimes job over at the campus radio station, but failed to mention that he was a damned _professor_?

Someone at their table asks whether this means that Newton has anything that he’s going to be presenting this evening, but he’s is quick to dismiss the notion, and turn the attention back to Hermann, which does nothing to silence his confusion, but it does do wonders to turn around Hermann’s increasingly sour mood. Because maybe it’s wishful thinking, and Hermann is simply seeing what he wants to see, he’ll admit-if only to himself-that this crush of his doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, but Newt keeps looking at him in a way that makes his breath and heart skip; like he’s the only one in the room worth paying much mind to.

“Dance with me,” Newton asks abruptly, when someone starts playing soft slow tunes on the grand piano in the corner of the ballroom.

“What,” Hermann manages stunned, because Newton can’t possibly have said what he thought he did. _Dance with him?_ “Newton, absolutely no one is dancing right now,” Hermann points out gesturing to the empty dance floor, but Newt isn’t about to give an inch.

“So what, someone has to be the first. Why shouldn’t it be us,” Newt smiles shaking his head. “Dude, you were a rock star up there. This is your night. You worked hard, you deserve a chance to have a little fun too,” he continues, standing up from his seat and offering Hermann a hand.

“I can’t dance.”

“Don’t give me that. It’s a slow song; anyone can shuffle around in a circle or square. C’mon.”

“This is stupid,” Hermann grumbles scooting his chair back and tentatively taking Newton’s hand as he stands up.

Hermann waits for Newt to forget himself, for his excitement to take precedent and for the younger man to all but drag him out to the center of the floor to dance now he's ceded to his silly request. But Newton it seems is full of surprises this evening, pacing himself extraordinarily well; guiding Hermann no faster than he's able with a gentle hand on the small of his back. Hermann almost regrets wearing his brace for the extra layer it adds between them, but the thought is abandoned as Newt takes his hand and starts leading them both to dance to the music, and Hermann thinks he might be forgetting to breathe as the weight of it hits him.

"Relax, Herms," Newt encourages with a soft smile up at him, seeming to sense the way he’s tensed a little. Hermann has never given much thought to their disparity in height before, but he finds he rather likes the way Newt fits against him: just tall enough to rest his head against Hermann's shoulder. Not that he would. This is just- Well, Hermann's not actually sure what this is… "You're doing fine," Newt assures him. A few other people have joined them now, so they aren't the only ones dancing, though there still seems to be enough space no one is bumping shoulders or elbows for which Hermann is definitely grateful, when a thought occurs to him.

"Newton is it entirely appropriate for you to be dancing with me,” Hermann hedges nervously.

“Umm… I think so,” Newt replies uncertainly, pulling back just a little more so he can meet Hermann’s gaze. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well you’re a professor,” Hermann points out, and Newt laughs, shaking his head, but his dancing doesn’t falter for a moment, hands never slipping from where they’re resting on the small of Hermann’s back and his shoulder.

“Adjunct. And I’m still a student too, Herms. Besides you aren't in either of my classes. But if that forbidden sort of teacher-student thing does it for you, I could probably find a way to work with that, I’m sure there’s somewhere more private around here we could slip away to,” Newt teases. And _Jesus_ , as soon as the words are out of his mouth, Newt wants to go back a few seconds and kick himself, because there goes his fucking resolution to push away any sort of inappropriate thoughts about his friend... Hermann’s startled enough to step on his toes, but Newt figures he probably had that coming. He puts on a show of laughing and an exaggerated wink in the hopes of throwing his dance partner off just how interested he would actually be in making anything like that happen, because there's no way in hell that Hermann is even remotely interested.

Newt's flirting with him, Hermann thinks, more than a little surprised, although perhaps he shouldn’t be, Newt seems to be varying degrees of flirty with plenty of people, from what he’s had the occasion to observe. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything, Hermann thinks, doing his best to pull himself back together, grateful a moment later for delaying any kind of response when Newton confirms his suspicions and makes it clear the whole thing was a joke.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann deadpans with the slightest hint of a smirk, and now it’s Newt’s turn to stumble a bit. _Was that-? Hermann Gottlieb teasing him? And mein gott, he never uses his title, but the way it sounds when Hermann says it, the way the r’s roll off his tongue… Yeah, Newt is in serious trouble._

“Yeah,” Newt manages finally, trying to shake it off as the song concludes and transitions to another one. Hermann makes a subtle nod back towards the table, with a significant look towards his usually favored leg to let him know he needs to sit for awhile. “I suppose of the two of us, you’d be the more convincing for the professor role,” Newt continues with an amused smile, cutting a path through the floor for Hermann.

“Do you actually teach in the sorts of clothing you wear to our biology class,” Hermann asks incredulously, as they reclaim their seats once more, although Newt’s pretty sure that there’s a kind of friendly fondness behind Hermann's usually critical tone. He’d like to think so anyway. Newt doesn’t push his luck and try to talk Hermann into another dance, but looking back on it later that night after he’s dropped Hermann off at his dormitory, he thinks the evening was a pretty great one anyway.


	7. Acclimatization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrAFangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

Hermann has the distinct feeling that he’s going to regard this later as a very bad idea, but the truth of the matter- though he’ll deny it to his last breath- is that he’s still just a little bit _giddy_ over the night before: seeing Newton in a suit, and dancing with him. He checks his closet in fact, once he’s up and moving about for the morning to make sure his suit is still hanging on the back of the door where he left it when he got back, just to be certain he didn’t dream it all. No, he definitely danced with him. And maybe flirted? Newton is such a naturally at ease and friendly sort of person, and Hermann is so woefully lacking in those sorts of social skills, he really can’t be sure. Which is why agreeing to go out together again is a terrible idea, because Hermann doesn’t have a clue anymore what the two of them are, or what he wants, and that’s far too many variables. But it’s just ice cream, right?

“You really didn’t know,” Newt asks a little taken aback, when Hermann admits between bites of his sundae hearing him addressed at the PPDC event as ‘Dr. Geiszler’ was the first he’d heard of his lab partner teaching any courses on campus.

“How could I? You never said anything to me about it.”

“Yeah, but I figured- You didn’t I dunno, try to look me up or anything?”

“No…” Hermann replies slowly, looking a bit suspicious. “Did you?”

“Well, um, yeah. But there isn’t much out there. How do you not even have a Facebook, dude?”

“How do you have _time_ for a Facebook, Newton,” Hermann fires back, deflecting, trying not to blush at the idea that Newton had been interested enough in him even early on when he was determined to be an ass and push him away, to try and look up more about him. It’s ridiculous of course, that he would have done that rather than just ask whatever it is he wanted to know, but Hermann supposes he was rather un-obliging in that regard when they had first started working together. And there might some small part of him that takes a little pleasure in the idea of Newt getting frustrated with endless articles about Lars rather than his lab partner.

“I don’t sleep much,” Newt replies unconcernedly with a half shrug, and Hermann is aware that this is meant to be a joke, but he’s also getting a little better at reading people, his lab partner in particular, or at least he likes to think so, so he knows the statement isn’t so far from the truth either. And he’s allowed to worry a little- as a friend- isn’t he? He would worry a little for the other man’s health, even if he weren’t still trying to puzzle out exactly how it is he’s managed to screw up the first real friendship he’s had in years by becoming overly attached. Wouldn’t he? “So what about you,” Newt asks, drawing him back out of his reverie to him and his slowly melting ice cream.

“I get plenty of sleep, Newton,” Hermann replies shaking his head, and taking another bite of his sundae.

“No, I mean what deep dark secrets have you been hiding from your friend and lab partner.”

“You teach part-time on campus, that’s hardly a deep dark secret,” Hermann replies with a small smile, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but you didn’t know about it,” Newt points out.

“No, but that’s because you don’t teach any sort of course that I need to take, and I have a lot more respect for other’s privacy.”

“Aw, I know maybe it’s not your precious numbers, but you’re not the least bit curious about musical engineering? You could audit you know, sit in on a class or two, just for the hell of it,” Newt suggests with a shrug, although he’s pretty sure Hermann might be able to account for the number of times he’s done anything just for the hell of it on one hand.

“Would you like me to,” Hermann asks seriously, setting down his spoon to look at him with that quiet intensity that had unsettled Newt at first, and now makes him squirm internally for an entirely different reason.

“No way,” Newt laughs shaking his head. “I’d just be giving you more fodder to poke fun at me, anyway you’d probably make me nervous and totally ruin an otherwise incredibly well-thought out and meaningful lecture,” he says with a teasing smile. “But you’re welcome to stop by, any time, if you wanted to,” he assures him more seriously. Hermann nods.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises.

“Do that,” Newt smiles brightly; eyeing his sundae for the moment having already demolished his milkshake, Hermann already done with what he can eat of it, wordlessly pushing the rest of it across the table to him. “Cheers,” he beams gratefully, lifting a spoon to him in a kind of silly salute, before digging in. “So,” he says between bites. “You dodged the question. Tell me something about you I don’t already know. Tell me something about Hermann Gottlieb nobody else knows.”

Hermann frowns a little shaking his head, but sighs in a way that Newt’s come to recognize as resignation, and doesn’t bother to point out to his companion that there are in fact plenty of other people that knew that Newt was both student and teacher on campus; he simply wasn’t one of them. Hermann keeps to himself enough he supposes the things about himself that Newton doesn’t know, and that the rest of their peers or the world at large don’t know about him amount to rather the same thing. The trouble, however, with being put on the spot like this, is that Hermann can’t immediately think of what sort of information is worth sharing, or at least that Newton would find interesting.

“I-“ he hesitates for a moment, reconsidering before he’s begun, before pressing on. “When I was maybe four or five, before…” he gestures to his leg and the cane leaned against the side of the booth beside him. “Before we understood what this meant,” Hermann continues, taking in a small short breath, and Newt nods, stopping eating for a moment to give him his undivided attention; or at least as much as Newton’s attention can be undivided. “Iwantedtobeanastronaut,” he confessed softly in one breath.

“What,” Newt asks, leaning forward a little more so the table is cutting into his stomach just so he can hope to hear the other boy better, when he repeats himself.

“I wanted to be an astronaut,” Hermann admits a little louder, shaking his head. “That was the first thing- the first career I can ever recall wanting to have,” he says. “It’s stupid,” he adds hastily. _He couldn’t have thought of anything else more interesting or less ridiculous to share with him?_

“You were a kid,” Newt replies sternly shaking his head as he sits back down, one hand reaching out across the table to cover Hermann’s, and offering it a reassuring squeeze. “Besides there’s nothing stupid about that, astronauts are awesome!”

“Yes, well, as my father was quick and regular to remind me, I’m no better suited for space travel than piloting a Jaeger,” Hermann says. “Better to focus on something more within my grasp and physical abilities.”

“Dude,” Newt gapes, because sure that’s probably true, but who the hell stomps on a kid’s dreams like that? Lars Gottlieb apparently. And Newt feels a surge of anger and protectiveness that’s completely ridiculous and futile for a younger Hermann. “I know your dad is this big important guy for figuring out a way for us to stand something of a chance against these bad boys,” he says, gesturing to the brightly colored and stylized kaiju tattoos that litter his arms. “But from the little you’ve told me about him, he sounds like an asshole.

“Sometimes,” Hermann acknowledges with a small half-laugh.

“Well, now that you’ve finished your code that’s going to totally stomp and reinvent what your dad did with the Jaegers,” Newt begins with a bright smile, ignoring Hermann’s mutterings of ‘ _augment and build upon, really, Newton_ ’ “What’s next for Hermann Gottlieb?”

“I don’t know,” Hermann replies shaking his head.

“Bullshit,” Newt exclaims accidentally flinging a few drops of ice cream onto the boy across from him as he gestures with his spoon for emphasis. “Whoops, sorry,” he apologizes immediately, grabbing and handing Hermann a napkin to wipe up the mess, though Hermann supposes as Newton and messes go, it could have been worse. “You always have a plan; you’ve probably got the whole rest of your life planned out in some little organizer that spans from present to forever.” It’s a rather extreme exaggeration, but Hermann takes his point, he does have a tendency to try to plot everything out far in advanced, even when with an uncertain future with the Kaiju threat, such things might be a little bit ridiculous.

“Finish my degree, and wait to see what the PPDC makes of my code,” Hermann shrugs. “I won’t be able to be of much more help to them until they accept me into the Jaeger Academy’s science program. If they accept me,” he qualifies. “Right now, I don’t have the clearance for any of their current intel about the Kaijus. I was only able to help construct a better code because I watched my father working on the original ones,” he admits reluctantly.

“They’d be idiots not to take you,” Newt says immediately with a smile, and while it’s true Newton might be prone to exaggerating now and again, Hermann can tell he genuinely means it, and has to fight down the creeping flush of color he feels starting at the back of his neck.

“We’ll see,” Hermann replies simply with a small smile.

…

Newt doesn’t exactly know how to go about asking, so he figures the best tactic is just to dive in. “So um, Herms, do your people celebrate Thanksgiving?” Damn, that sounded a lot better in his head, if the sharp look that Hermann is giving him is any indication.

“Do you ever think before you open your mouth, or realize how incredibly offensive some of the things you say might sound, Newton,” he scolds. “Thanksgiving isn’t exactly a pagan or specific religious holiday; Jewish people can celebrate it too,” Hermann replies, though the Gottlieb household hasn’t ever been particularly devout.

“That’s not what I meant,” Newt stammers quickly shaking his head. “I meant your family. Do they celebrate it? Are you going home for the break?”

“Our _break_ is a grand total of two extra days to our usual weekend,” Hermann replies shaking his head as they make their way out of the lecture hall after their shared biology class ends.

“So…”

“No, I’m not flying back over break,” Hermann replies with a sigh.

“Right-“ Newt says, fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag as they walk.

“Just ask, Newton,” Hermann prompts. “Whatever it is you’re working up towards.”

“Well, look-“ Newt begins nervously, because he definitely still remembers how well the whole thing went when he asked something like this the last time, and an invitation for a holiday meal has the potential to carry a lot more pressure and be less casual than a meal out at a restaurant, but ever since he talked to his dad and uncle the other day, he’s not been able to stop thinking about Hermann, and the possibility that he might be spending Thanksgiving alone. “Don’t feel like you have to, or anything- I won’t be mad or disappointed, promise,” he says quickly, and Hermann seriously doubts that, but he does recognize that Newt is at least sometimes aware enough to keep himself from wallowing on those sorts of fleeting emotions before they take him over. “But you could come home with me for the weekend,” he mumbles nervously.

There’s a little pang of guilt there, knowing that Newt’s probably so cautious and afraid of making a suggestion like this because of how poorly Hermann had handled a similar invitation before. He’s not altogether sure that this is any better a scenario. He’s still not sure what exactly it is that he feels for his lab partner and friend, but he has determined that it’s certainly not going anywhere anytime soon. What if they see that? What if they don’t like him? Not to mention Newt may well intend to stay the entire weekend there with his father and uncle, and it occurs to Hermann that he doesn’t know precisely where it is they live. Newton will no doubt be driving there, if he becomes uncomfortable or wants to return sooner will he be stranded? It’s an awful lot of variables to consider.

“Hermann,” Newt interjects softly, and only then does Hermann realize he’s stopped walking in the middle of the hallway, the other boy waiting expectantly at his side, and trying not to look too concerned. “Relax. We still have another week. You can think about it, and let me know, okay?”

“Yes. Okay,” Hermann nods, and it’s not a yes, not yet, but it’s a start, and Newt can’t help, but to smile in spite of himself.

…

“No way,” Newt replies when he finally manages to pick up his slack jaw, shaking his head.

“Right,” Hermann says awkwardly, gripping his cane a little tighter trying to find metaphorical footing again, because much as it had pained him to even ask, this wasn’t exactly the answer that he was expecting… But he supposes maybe since he hasn’t yet given Newton an answer about whether or not he’ll be joining him going to the Gieszler home next weekend, this is only fair. It is late, and while he’s doing his best and thinks he’s doing an admirable job of not staring, it didn’t escape him Newt’s answered his door in a sweatshirt and boxers.“I’m sorry for bothering you, I’ll just-“

“No, Hermann,” Newt says, hand shooting out to grab his elbow and stop his retreat. “I meant there’s no way I’m making you sleep on the floor dude, of course you can crash in my room,” the younger boy assures him quickly, pulling the door open wider and stepping aside. “Come on in. Do you have everything you need,” he asks, scanning the small bag Hermann’s brought with him.

“The basic necessities,” Hermann nods. “I’m not sure how long he’ll be… entertaining his girlfriend, but I suppose I can text him tomorrow and arrange a time to drop in and pick up some more clothes if it’s the whole weekend.”

“ _Entertaining_ ,” Newt repeats with a snort. “Jesus Herms, you were born an old man, weren’t you? You are… I don’t even know what you are, man. One of a kind, that’s for sure,” the younger boy laughs, with a fond smile. “Only you could walk in on your roommate fucking his out of town, off-and-on again girlfriend, and refer to it as _entertaining_ her. Was it? Entertaining?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. So, if you’re quite finished,” Hermann interrupts, blushing a little. “Maybe you can tell me where I’m going to be sleeping, since you’ve rejected my proposal of camping on your floor.”

“Herms, I know you don’t want any sort of special treatment, but sleeping on the floor can’t possibly be good for you. Anyway, if you did, I’m liable to forget and trip over you when I get up in the middle of the night and crush you or break my neck, so it’s a matter of safety,” Newt argues shaking his head. “You can sleep on the bed. I’ll change the sheets and swap out the blanket, and I can sleep on the loveseat,” he says, gesturing over to the small couch along the opposite wall. Hermann eyes it appraisingly. It looks small, even for someone as short as Newt is…

“I’ve passed out on it plenty of times before when I was up late reading or working, and I’m no worse for wear,” Newt promises, crossing his heart for emphasis in a way that never fails to make the older boy roll his eyes.

“Fine,” Hermann agrees. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Herms. What are friends for?” Hermann’s not really sure, he thinks as he watches Newt begin to strip the bed, ordering him into the bathroom ‘to freshen up or whatever his routine is.’ He’s not really had much in the way of friends, and he’s pretty sure there’s some unwritten rule somewhere where siblings don’t actually count. Not that he’s been in touch with any of them in awhile. Maybe he should do something about that… He thinks though, surprising, even repugnant as the idea might have seemed to him before he got to know him, Newton is in fact an incredibly good friend.

Hermann showers and changes into a shirt and loose pair of sleep pants, and returns to neat bed and Newt setting up his laptop for a subtitled monster movie that ends up being a bit dated and cliché, but it seems a fair trade for making him sleep on the couch.

“Newton,” he probes into the dark of the room when both of them have settled in to finally go to sleep.

“Yeah, Herms,” Newt replies immediately, though his voice sounds a little bit slurred in a way that suggests he’s perhaps been putting off sleep for longer than he should, and not just this evening.

“I think I would like to go with you, to your dad and uncle’s for Thanksgiving,” Hermann admits to the ceiling above his head.

“Awesome,” Newt says dreamily. “Looking forward to it.”

“[Geh schalafen](),” Hermann orders, fondly.

“Bossy,” Newt mutters sleepily. “G’night Hermann.”

“[Gut nacht]()... Newt,” Hermann whispers softly.                                                                                                                                   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Geh schalafen_ (Go to sleep)
> 
> _Gut nacht_ (Goodnight)


	8. Testing Boundaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vraFangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

They get in late Wednesday night, because both of them being the workaholics had wanted to get ahead of their labs and homework so they wouldn’t have any hanging over their heads when they get back to campus Sunday. Fortunately they didn’t drive as Hermann had initially suspected and feared, but rather Newt’s uncle bought the two of them tickets for the Amtrak and picked the pair of them up from the station, which was only a short commute from the Geiszler household. Hermann whose leg had decided to flare up while he had been packing the previous night found he was incredibly grateful for the extra legroom to stretch and the ability to get up and walk around as needed, though he still hasn’t given up on the possibility of reimbursing Newt’s family for the ticket, despite the younger boy’s insistence they won’t hear of it.

Newt lets Hermann take the bathroom to freshen up first after they arrive, taking the opportunity to visit and investigate the arrangements his uncle and father have for their visit, before Newt gets the distinctly uncomfortable impression that Jacob and Illia Geiszler have a _very_ different idea of the nature of the relationship between him and Hermann. A suspicion which only seems to be confirmed when they lead the pair of them carrying their bags up to Newt’s old room which hasn’t been touched since he left, but also lacks a second bed or place for one of them to sleep, setting off a good deal of internal alarm bells and panic.

“What happened to the cot,” Newt asks a bit desperately as soon as they are out of earshot of the door.

“The neighbor asked to borrow it. Something about a camping trip with his son,” Illia replies, brow furrowing. “Why? What’s the matter?”

“We can’t _share_ my bed, that’s what’s the matter,” Newt hisses.

“Newt,” his father interjects cautiously. “I know maybe you and I have never explicitly talked about this, but- well you know your uncle and I don’t care, don’t you? I mean, of course we care, but it doesn’t bother us.” Newt gapes wishing he could just melt into the floor, because he is _not_ having this conversation with his father right now in the middle of the hallway with Hermann just two doors away. Except apparently they are.

“You’re an adult, and you know how to be safe,” his uncle chimes in with a nod. “We trust you. Girls, boys… If they treat you well, make you happy, that’s good enough for us. We are looking forward to getting to know your Hermann better.” Newt manages not to grimace at the possessive in front of Hermann’s name, but it’s a near thing; because while he certainly wouldn’t mind-not in the least bit- it’s better to be realistic with himself about these things, and Hermann being _his_ , is never going to happen.

“No. It’s _not_ like that,” Newt interrupts before either of them can say anything else, shaking his head. “I mean- well, sometimes for me it’s girls, and sometimes it’s boys,” he acknowledges with a shrug, because honestly it has a lot more to do with the person than what they happen to be packing in their pants. And this has to be the most awkward and weirdest way of coming out ever, but its incidental to the more pressing issue right now, which is, “But Hermann isn’t… he’s just- he’s just a friend, alright,” Newt exhales. “So we _can’t_ share a bed. That’s just… awkward.” His father and uncle exchange a look that suggests they aren’t entirely convinced, and Newt knows he’s going to have a lot more questions to deal with later, but for now…

“Alright, relax. Take a deep breath. We’ll work something out,” his uncle promises.

Newt nods, doing his best to quell the spike of anxiety churning up his insides, deciding to round up some extra blankets and pillows while the elder men discuss alternative sleeping arrangements for the pair of them. Hermann’s left the door to the bathroom open a little, probably to let out the steam from his shower in order to use the mirror, and there’s something about the sight of him there barefoot in a dark blue pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, brushing his teeth, hair still a little wet and tousled from his shower, that’s so domestic and adorable it stops him for a minute.

“I’ll be done in just a moment,” Hermann says around his toothbrush when he spots Newton in the mirror standing there in the hallway.

“Huh? No, that’s fine,” Newt replies immediately shaking his head, because honestly it’s not the end of the world having to wait.

“Alright out with it,” Hermann demands after spitting out the remains of his toothpaste and quickly rinsing. “You’re staring, do I have some toothpaste somewhere obvious or embarrassing that I missed,” he asks, glancing sideways in the mirror with a frown, although he doesn’t immediately notice anything amiss, besides his untidy hair, which he then sets to smoothing down, much to Newt’s disappointment.

“No, it’s just- I thought they were polka dots,” Newt manages gesturing to Hermann’s shirt, finally forcing his legs to work, closing the distance between them for a better look. “But they’re not consistently spaced. They’re stars. There’s Cassiopeia- and this one is supposed to be Andromeda right,” he asks. It seems it’s Hermann’s turn to stare now, as he nods slowly, jaw slightly slack, finally looking down to where Newt’s fingers are hovering over the constellation, which he realizes rests just above the older boy’s left breast. Pulling his hand back as quickly as he can gracefully manage without making it too obvious or awkward, he coughs, straightening up. Perhaps if he’s lucky, Newt thinks, Hermann will simply pass the whole thing off as being yet another instance where Newt’s failed to grasp or respect individual’s personal bubbles.

_It’s better this way_ , Hermann tells himself, watching Newton pull away. Much as he may have wanted, maybe even enjoyed the younger boy touching him, he wouldn’t have been able to miss the way Hermann’s heart was pounding, and the game would be up.

“I didn’t realize you had any knowledge or interest in astronomy,” Hermann manages finally a little surprised, swallowing his heart which seemed to have jumped up into his throat.

“Oh, I don’t. Not really,” Newt admits. “But you said the first career you ever dreamed of having was to be an astronaut, right? Figured I’d see what all the fuss was about, brush up a bit,” the younger boy shrugged softly, doing his very best to hold off his nervousness, because yeah that had certainly been part of his reasoning, but it wasn’t exactly all of it. “Don’t be too impressed. I’m not like an expert or anything-“ the younger boy adds quickly, slowly beginning to fall into his usual pattern of babbling whenever he’s nervous.

“Why,” Hermann asks, looking more than a little confused.

“Well, because I’m saving that distinction for biology, dude,” Newt replies with a shrug and lopsided grin, doing his utmost to appear more at ease than he actually is.

“No,” Hermann shakes his head. “Not why are you not an expert, why bother to study any of it in the first place?”

“I said-“ Newt replies cautiously, because now he’s the one getting confused. Has he unwittingly made some kind of social faux pas he wasn’t aware of again? Has he accidentally broken one of the older boy’s many unspoken rules somehow?

“That was years ago, Newton. And my father might have been a bit…”

“Of an asshole,” Newt supplies quickly.

“Harsh,” Hermann continues, ignoring his assessment, and Newt does his best not to snort, because there’s an understatement if ever he’s heard one. “But he’s not wrong,” Hermann continues. “No space program would ever be interested in putting me in space.”

“Maybe not,” Newt shrugs. “But you still like it,” he gestures towards Hermann’s shirt again.

“But it’s not important what I like,” Hermann frowns.

“Wha- of course it is, Herms. Who told you that? Nevermind,” Newt scowls, “I can probably guess. You can’t really believe that though,” the younger boy says fighting a frown because Hermann has never enjoyed any sort of pity, but this… this is quite possibly the worst thing Lars Gottlieb has ever done; and maybe Newt is prone to some black and white thinking at times because of his faulty wiring and brain-chemistry, but he thinks this is pretty unforgivable.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Hermann says shaking his head, so Newt must not be doing as good of a job as he’d hoped of hiding how much his chest aches on his friend’s behalf. “Newton, in case you didn’t notice the world is fighting verifiable monsters, a fight we could very well lose if we don’t keep working and fighting to stay ahead. Nobody likes to think or talk about it, it’s a lot more fun to idolize the pilots and buy all the Kaijus action-figures, and pretend the world will eventually go back to what it was before tomorrow, or the next day,” he continues, and Newt does his best not to think about all of his Kaiju and monster themed shirts and boxers in a drawer two rooms away. “But it’s true. Sure maybe before all of this I could have looked into a career to do with Astronomy or Aerospace, but it’s not about what you like anymore, not for the people who have the skills and ability to make a difference. It’s about where you can be the most useful.”

Newt just stands there for a moment, jaw slack, brain scrambled, because he’s known Hermann long enough by now to have figured out that there is a lot more to him than the prickly front that he puts up to keep everyone at arm’s length, but every now and again he’ll say or do something like this that totally disarms him. Of course he isn’t wrong to think that there are bigger fish to fry, but there are still plenty of people, their classmates even, that are still going about their lives much the same as they always have, as if the Kaiju are simply an inconvenience; expressing the appropriate amount of grief whenever tragedy strikes, before quickly moving on. Hermann could absolutely be that selfish if he wanted to be. He may be a Gottlieb, but neither Lars, nor the world at large has given him anything, Hermann has fought tooth and nail for all of it. Newt wouldn’t blame him for a second if he decided to tell the whole world to just fuck off. In some instances, Newt thinks recalling those first few stilted conversations between them, the way the older boy determinedly keeps most people at arm’s length, Hermann does, but by the same token he’s still rolling up his sleeves and fighting for everyone who’s discounted or disrespected him anyway, and that’s pretty fucking badass.

Newt is pretty sure he’s never admired anyone, and certainly not Hermann, more than he does right now. And yeah, Newt thinks the Kaiju are fascinating. From a scientific perspective he’d be absolutely thrilled to be able to examine and study them one day, but if they were to beat and somehow stop them from ever coming back tomorrow? Well he’s not without his bias, but he can’t think of anybody who deserves to see the other side of this and finally go after what he wants and loves more than Hermann. He is about to tell him so, but it seems the opportunity has passed during his reverie because Hermann slides past him with a soft, ‘your turn,’ before padding down the hall to his old room.

Hermann has propped himself with several pillows up against the wall on Newt’s old bed reading a book he’d brought with him, when the younger boy returns from the bathroom himself, still acutely aware and a little embarrassed now by his Kaiju patterned sleep pants.

“I wasn’t sure what the sleeping arrangements were,” Hermann offers, carefully bookmarking his page, before closing the book and setting it aside. He makes a move to slide down off the bed and stand, but Newt shakes his head. No sense in troubling him with it, the older boy hasn’t actually said anything about it- not that he ever does- but Newt hasn’t missed the way Hermann’s been leaning a little more heavily on his cane today. “Everything alright,” Hermann asks sounding a little concerned, it seems Newt hasn’t done such a good job of hiding his stress about the situation from him.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” Newt swallows, although he’s not entirely sure who he’s trying to convince more, Hermann or himself. “They just loaned out the cot we usually have, so we’re still figuring out sleeping arrangements.” Hermann frowns a little, and it doesn’t escape Newt’s notice that he’s made a point of opening his bag on top of one of the shorter dressers, and besides the makeshift place to sit he’s set up, has thus far left the bed untouched, despite the fact it’s late and both of them are exhausted. “You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he interjects sharply before the older boy can even suggest such a thing.

“I already made you sleep on the little couch in your room all last weekend,” Hermann points out. “I can’t put you out in your own home too.”

“First of all, you didn’t _make_ me do anything,” Newt corrects him firmly. “I chose to do that, and I was happy to do it. You needed somewhere to stay, and it would have done more harm than good you sleeping on the couch, you’re too long. Besides, it was… nice to have you around like that. I’m still a student, but I’m sort of exempt from having a roommate these days since I teach a couple courses.” Newt won’t go so far as to say that it gets lonely, but the room definitely felt a little bit… cozier with Hermann there.

“Where will you sleep then,” Hermann asks.

“I can grab one of the chairs downstairs in the living room,” Newt shrugs. They’re not the _worst_ place he could try to sleep, he reasons, and it’s only for a couple nights.

“You’d be comfortable like that? Able to sleep,” the older boy presses, and it’d be sort of touching- no, it _is_ touching- that Hermann seems so concerned for his well-being, but there really isn’t any other options. Besides Newt’s never really been one for the traditional eight hours of sleep per night anyway.

Hermann slips off the bed, and starts to shove his a hand into his pocket to curl around whatever change and loose items he’s carrying in a way that Newt has come to recognize as a nervous tic to center him, before he seems to realize there’s nothing in the sweatpants he’s brought to sleep in. He reaches out for the familiar comfort of his cane instead, knuckles a little white with how tight he’s gripping it. “We could share,” he suggests, plowing forward with the most logical solution before he can lose his nerve. “The bed’s big enough. I don’t take up much space,” Hermann adds, trailing off and fighting off a blush.

“No,” Newt replies shaking his head maybe a little too quickly, based on the way Hermann’s face drops. Hermann might be a little guy, but he certainly isn’t, and then there’s the bigger problem, “I couldn’t do that to you, dude, I’m a total blanket hog,” Newt lies.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’s confused gratitude when someone is offering him their time and interest, for something more and he really doesn’t want to muddy the waters more than they already are; the way sharing a bed with Hermann almost certainly would. _Hermann is his friend_ , he reminds himself. Despite that grumpy façade and general tone of exasperation he seems to enjoy directing at him, all their silly debates and bickering, Hermann understands him in a way he’s not been able to find with anyone else. Hermann appreciates him, understands him, and he’s willing to tolerate some of his more trying or annoying moods and behaviors. Newt doesn’t want to screw that up. Fleeting thoughts about how attractive Hermann can be is one thing, but even dancing with him- as wonderful as the evening had been- was pushing the envelope. He can’t afford to keep blurring the lines like this.

“Good thing I’ve got some warm pajamas then,” Hermann says, drawing a laugh out of him.

“I don’t know Herms, won’t your girlfriend get jealous,” Newt returns, forcing himself to fall into their usual kind of friendly teasing one another, grateful for the levity as some of his anxiety slowly ebbs away.

“Ha. Ha,” the older boy deadpans, rolling his eyes.

“Boyfriend,” Newt offers up with a shrug, only to be met with an equally unimpressed look, the younger boy takes as a ‘no.’ “What? You’re a private kind of a guy, you could have a secret girlfriend or boyfriend.”

“And you have no concept of respecting other’s privacy and personal space. How exactly do you imagine I would keep something like a significant other of any kind from you,” Hermann returns. “So unless _you’ve_ managed to keep a romantic partner from me, who also happens to be deeply insecure and would be threatened by somebody like me, sharing the bed seems the most practical solution without sacrificing comfort or the ability to actually get some meaningful sleep while we’re here.”

Newt really hates that matter of fact tone; the one that says Hermann has determined this is the best or only correct solution, the one that challenges Newt to prove him wrong or come up with a better alternative. Mostly because much of the time when Hermann uses this tone, he is in fact right. Not that Newt has ever actually conceded as much aloud before, Hermann doesn’t need his head getting too inflated. He’s right now too, much as he loathes admitting it. Newt might not need much sleep most of the time, but it seems unlikely he’ll get much of any sleeping in the reclining chair downstairs between trying to convince his body to sleep in a different sort of position than usual, and that his uncle and father will likely be up early banging around in the kitchen to work on the holiday meal. Sharing the bed, while a terrifying prospect, does seem the most logical solution, and Hermann is the one proposing it, which must mean he’s comfortable with it. Why shouldn’t he be? They are friends; only that for Hermann’s part of it, so there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be able to do this with only a little awkwardness. Newt is the one that has invested more in it than he should have, as usual.

“I suppose we could try that for tonight,” Newt relents finally with a shrug. If it turned out that Hermann rolled around and unconsciously wailed on him while he was sleeping, if Newt’s snoring kept the other boy up, and bed-sharing proved a total disaster then he could always move to the chair the following evening, and they would be back on campus and their own separate respective beds soon enough.

_This is probably a mistake_ , Hermann thinks as Newt ducks out into the hall to let his father and uncle know they’ve come to temporary arrangement. Newton doesn’t think of him as anything more than a friend. _Maybe_ , the older boy thinks for one terrifying moment, _he’s started to figure it out_. _Perhaps that is the reason he’d resisted the idea of the two of them sharing his old bed while they’re visiting… Mein Gott he’s fucked this up utterly, hasn’t he?_

“Huh,” he manages rather unintelligently, realizing he’s missed whatever it was that the other boy has just said when he’d returned.

“Which side of the bed do you want,” Newt repeats, shrugging towards the bed. “Is it easier for you to have the outside, or…” Hermann shakes his head, trying to force back down the anxiety that’s welling up within him; Newt had seemed surprised at his suggestion, seems as though he may still be a little nervous now, but he’s not running away yet. If he can just pull himself back together, maybe there’s a chance he can pull the mask back up before he ruins everything and makes this the most hellishly awkward holiday possible.

Normally he would opt for the outside. He’s a much earlier riser than Newton generally is, but he suspects with the way his leg and hip are continuing to bother him that he may be in for a long night of interrupted and lighter sleep than he might prefer. That being the case, he’ll take the side against the wall beneath the window for the view it affords of the moon and stars; dim though they’ll be with the lights from the city. Hermann grabs the book he’d set aside, moving it out of the way to the windowsill, before grabbing the pillows and putting them back into place. He hangs the handle of his cane over the top of the headboard, before carefully climbing up on the bed and slipping under the sheet and comforter, scooting over to make room for the other boy to join him. The bed creaks as Newt climbs in behind Hermann, careful not to crowd or disturb him, though it’s no easy task on a bed that wasn’t really meant for two to comfortably share.

“Relax,” Hermann grumbles after a moment passes in silence, the words as much for his own benefit as the younger boy’s. “I don’t bite.”

“That’s a bummer,” Newt teases before he can give much thought to the words coming out of his mouth. The words ring back to him in his own ears causing his stomach to drop out from under him. “Ugh, sorry, I’m just making this a million times more awkward. I didn’t really mean- It’s just sort of habit to…”

“[Sich beruhigen](),” Hermann interrupts, cutting him off. “You’re so tense you’re making _me_ ache. I know you didn’t mean it.” The thing of course, is that to some extent Newt thinks that maybe he did, that maybe these slip ups aren’t so much mistakes, as more cowardly attempts to test the waters and see just how much Hermann will let him get away with. Newt doesn’t want to screw this up and lose Hermann’s friendship, but he can’t seem to help it, he’s never been entirely comfortable with unknowns where relationships are concerned. He needs to know where that line in the sand is between them. And the thought of walking around with any kind of mark or love bite from Hermann is _far_ from a repulsive one, even if there’s no chance in hell it’ll ever happen.

Newt forces himself to do as the older boy’s ordered, allowing himself to scoot a little further in so he doesn’t feel as if he may fall off the bed at any moment, bumping up against the older boy’s back, one hand brushing against Hermann as he attempts to balance and better position himself. This time really was an accident, but even so Newt feels an all new rush of panic wash over him at the soft but sharp intake of breath and the way Hermann has immediately stiffened.

“Dude you are _so_ not comfortable with this,” Newt says, doing an admirable job of hiding any disappointment he might be feeling about it.

_This_ , he thinks to himself, _must be that line in the sand that he was looking for_. Hermann is definitely not comfortable with this kind of intimacy between the two of them, platonic as it is meant to be. Hermann might not be comfortable with this kind of intimacy with any guys. Newt’s never shied away from flirting with boys or girls in front of Hermann, and the older boy has never had any negative comments or responses about it; but Newt has never actually been brave enough to ask where the other boy might fall on the Kinsey scale. Hermann is just so quiet and private about himself; and Newt tends to project his own emotions and thoughts onto the people around them well enough without any romantic or sexual interest, so he’s not altogether sure how trustworthy his radar is.

Newt makes to move back and get off the bed, he’ll find a way to make sleeping downstairs in one of the chairs work for himself, but Hermann’s grabbed his arm where it had frozen just behind him and carefully turns over to face him. “No, it’s-“ Hermann shakes his head, because he is _not_ going to use that ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ cliché right now. “[Es ist gut](). [Mir geht es guht](). I’m not uncomfortable, exactly… I’m just- not used to it.”

“What sharing a bed,” Newt asks puzzled, _of course he’s not used to it_ ; they’ve never done anything like this before, or even remotely close.

“Touch,” Hermann admits voice barely louder than a whisper and trembling a little.

“Any,” Newt asks not wanting to believe it, feeling his heart break still further for the boy beside him.

“[Irgendein](),” Hermann confirms nervously, with a small nod.

“Do you want to get used to it? I mean, is this- is this alright,” Newt asks, slowly letting his body relax again where it’s resting just beside and barely touching Hermann’s.

_No._ Hermann has made it this far in his life, and done just fine for himself without much of anything in the way of touch or affection. Just the poking of needles, the prodding of doctors… _Clinical. Cold._ At times even _painful_. Hermann was born weak enough as it was, his father had insisted, he didn’t need to be coddled. Hermann doesn’t want to get used to touch, only to never have it again. He doesn’t want to get used to _Newton’s_ touch, knowing it will never come in the way that he really wants. Every cell in his body, every neuron in his brain, is screaming what a bad idea this whole thing is. Newton doesn’t seem to understand personal space, or boundaries, or that flirting or slow dancing isn’t status quo between two friends - never has- or maybe he just doesn’t care. He doesn’t understand he’s breaking his heart, without even trying or meaning to; because Newton only wants what he always has, what he can never get enough of: attention, affection, love, from whoever will give it to him.

It doesn’t matter if that’s him or someone else, Hermann knows, _but mein Gott he is tired_. He’s tired of stiffening up, flinching, even at times feeling sick because someone accidentally brushed up against or bumped into him. He loves his numbers, theories and formulas, loves the stars and planets… They are _safe._ Loving them, and keeping everyone else at arm’s length has kept him safe. But it’s also kept him alone; and Hermann is tired of feeling so cold and lonely.

“Yes,” Hermann exhales softly, turning back onto his side, tucking the small pillow he commandeered back between his knees for support. “Es ist gut,” he assures his companion slowly relaxing, melting a little into Newt’s chest where it’s tucked in behind him. Hermann knows he might regret it later, but right now? It _is_ pretty good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sich beruhigen_ (relax/calm down)  
>  _Es ist gut._ (It is fine/good.)  
>  _Mir geht es guht._ (I am fine)  
>  _Irgendein_ (any)  
> 


	9. Tremors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vraFangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

Newt falls asleep first; because this is not some kind of fairytale or ridiculously cliché romance or even romantic-comedy movie, so while their almost spooning it seems is comforting in some way to Newton, it isn’t an immediate or magical balm for all of Hermann’s aches and pains.  Instead he lies awake for awhile staring out at the faraway stars, listening to Newton’s light snoring, allowing his breathing to fall in step with the rise and fall of the chest pressed up against his back, and waits for the moment he will begin to feel that familiar pinch of anxiety or discomfort in his belly that always accompanies physical touch, except that it never comes. Maybe the pain will come again eventually, but there’s a kind of comfort in the fact that if or when it does, it will be his fault- for investing so much in a kind of relationship that’s never going to exist between them- and not Newton’s. He trusts Newton- _Newt_ \- more than he has with anyone, excepting perhaps Karla and Bastien. The younger boy is careful with him, but because he cares about him and what Hermann wants, because he respects him, not out of some kind of pity for him or because he believes him to be particularly fragile. Newt would never hurt him- not on purpose. So Hermann stops waiting for the anxiety or discomfort to hit, cataloging the warmth and feel of Newt’s arm as it sleepily slides over his midriff to hug him softly, and eventually he drifts off to sleep too.

The older boy stirs to sun peaking in over the roofs of the houses across the street, and is pleased to find stretching out a little, that his leg and hip seem to be somewhat improved. He’ll keep the cane on hand just in case, aware the steep and narrow stairs between the first and second floor of the house will take a lot out of him; doing his best to already plan and thereby conserve his trips. Newt is already up, and finding the bathroom free, Hermann supposes that the younger boy is already downstairs, visiting or perhaps helping his father and uncle with the upcoming meal. Hermann does his best to ignore any fleeting disappointment of waking up alone as he proceeds to get dressed and make himself presentable. He cannot afford to get used to this, Hermann reminds himself scowling at his reflection before resuming brushing his teeth, not when it won’t last.

…

“So you and Hermann are not together then,” Jacob Geiszler says, taking a large and grateful sip of his coffee. Newt sighs, putting down his Pop-tart. “Well what was I supposed to think? Besides your research he’s nearly all I’ve heard about whenever we get a chance to talk,” his father supplies perhaps a little defensively.

“No,” Newt replies firmly, doing his best to push the thought of how nice it had been to wake up beside the older boy earlier that morning aside. “We are not together.”

“But you would like to be,” his uncle says softly as he enters the kitchen, catching him off guard and causing him to jump a little, prompting Illia to place a gentle hand on his shoulder in silent apology before moving to the counter to make his own breakfast. It isn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

There isn’t much point in trying to come up with a clever lie or excuses. In the first place, it probably wouldn’t be nearly as clever as it needs, or Newt might like it to be, and in the second, he’s never been able to keep much of anything from his uncle; something which is still a little bit terrifying and simultaneously incredibly freeing. Illia Geiszler knows Newt, at times better than he seems to know his own self, he misses little to nothing, and somehow he still seems to love, enjoy and appreciate his nephew for all that he is, and not just because he should or has to because of their shared and similar genes. Not that his father doesn’t love him too, but Jacob had another life, another home, a wife who’d been understandably less than thrilled with the fact her husband had a son with another woman, and not overly eager to talk about or acknowledge- let alone consider raising him. His father had straddled the line as best he could until her death a few years ago. He’d sent money to his brother, came by just before or after the holidays to see them, and he tried, he cared, he just… wasn’t around enough to have developed the same understanding, even if Newt clearly took after some of his looks and more interesting quirks.

“Yes,” Newt concedes softly, staring blankly at his plate of pop-tarts, feeling distinctly less hungry than he had some minutes ago, for finally voicing the desire aloud.

“And what about Hermann,” Illia asks gently, taking the seat beside him at the kitchen table.

“I don’t know,” Newt moans, dropping his head into his hands and tugging a little at his hair, before peeking out at the other man from between his arms. “I don’t know,” he repeats, voice something of a whine, while shaking his head. “I haven’t asked. He’s so private, and even if he _is_ interested in guys- he might not be in me, and- I don’t want to screw this up,” Newt admits softly, finally looking up to meet his uncle’s gaze. “He doesn’t get me a 100% of the time-but sometimes I don’t even get me- and… he’s the first person who’s stuck around this long- to keep trying even when I’m being annoying or impossible. I don’t want to lose that, just because I’ve got some stupid crush.”

“You think that’s all it is,” Jacob asks, taking the seat on the opposite side of him, and making Newt feel just a tiny bit ganged up upon.

 _That’s all it can be_ , Newt thinks frowning, but instead says, “You don’t?” Newt’s a bit skeptical of any insight that his father might have about the situation, but recognizes somewhere in the back of his mind that he’s trying to be helpful, attentive. Perhaps the fact that they aren’t as close will give him a different, clearer perspective for being a little more removed from it all…

Jacob shrugs. “You’ve never really talked about boys before. Is Hermann the first-“ the older man can’t seem to determine how best to finish the thought he was trying to articulate, but Newt gets where he was going with it, shaking his head. No, Hermann certainly isn’t the first guy that he’s ever been attracted to. He _is_ significantly closer to Hermann than he was with any of those other passing crushes, however. “Well, none of the crushes I’ve been aware of have ever lasted this long,” Jacob offers, “But you’d know better than anyone else if this is just- a passing thing, or not.” _Doubtful_ , Newt thinks darkly as Jacob excuses himself to go check on the turkey, _and really sometimes it’s like his father doesn’t know him at all,_ forcing himself to take a bite of his breakfast without really tasting it to stop himself saying something he might regret. Newt feels some of his bitterness and anxiety ebb a little when his uncle places a gentle hand over his arm, and offers a kind and sympathetic smile.

No one has ever accused Newt of being good at being either quiet or still, but he admires it, even if he struggles to emulate it. Somehow, impossibly, and thank a god he doesn’t believe in for it, Illia Geislzer seems to have learned how to navigate his nephew’s erratic moods, and found the perfect balance between verbal encouragement and affirmation, and that of quiet moments like these of wordless support and love that help Newt to feel tethered to something steadier than himself and his atypical neurochemistry. Hermann has the same gift, although Newt has never actually told him so. He’s not entirely sure how to go about doing so without seeming like he’s trying to get him to do so even more- even simply using him for that ability, or coming across as somehow too dependent and clingy.

“You’re not impossible, Newt,” Illia assures him kindly, squeezing his arm a little and relaxing, expertly drawing him out of any more maudlin or bitter thoughts. “No one is without some kind of baggage. Not even Hermann, however much you may admire him,” he adds before Newt can protest, and _yeah, alright_ , on some level Newt knows Herms has got plenty of issues too. “Just because you haven’t met someone willing to put in the work yet, doesn’t mean you aren’t worth the effort. Maybe that’ll be Hermann, maybe it won’t be,” Illia continues, rubbing his arm over one of the colorfully inked Kaiju when Newt does his best to hide a wince at the thought of being rejected, “But try to remember that? You are worth the effort. And Hermann is your friend-a good one from everything you’ve told us- so he does care about you, even if it isn’t the same way you do. You’ll never know for sure if that’s the case unless you put yourself out there and take that risk though.” Newt swallows, nodding reluctantly.

“I love you, Newt,” Illia smiles, standing up and kissing the crown of the boy’s head, hugging him briefly. “I just want to see you happy. Your father and I both do,” he whispers against his temple. “Now, I’d better go check on him, before that brother of mine tries to burn down the place somehow,” he teases.

“Good morning Hermann, sleep well,” his uncle asks brightly spotting the older boy making his way down from the top of the stairs. _Too far away to have heard any of their conversation_ , Newt reminds himself, reigning in the stirrings of anxiety that popped up when Illia greeted his guest, turning around to smile up at him.

“Yes, thank you,” Hermann nods politely, though Newt notices-fighting the rush of blood to his cheeks- that the elder boy is mostly looking at him while offering his thanks. He’d fallen asleep first, but Hermann had seemed to relax a little after the initial surprise and discomfort of being touched had worn off, and Newt finds himself hoping that his getting up later means that he isn’t simply being polite in saying that he slept well.

“Good,” Illia smiles. “I’m glad. We were pleased you could join us. Sorry about the cramped arrangements,” he apologizes, though Newt suspects that while his father and uncle are nothing if not gracious hosts, they may only be half sorry if their prying and conversation this morning was any indication of their interest in giving Newton a little push towards potential happiness. “The kitchen’s rather small I’m afraid, and Jacob will be plenty enough help,” his uncle continues, shooting Newt a knowing and amused smile. “But there’s a TV in the living room if you’d like to watch the parade, or you’re welcome to borrow the car- maybe Newt could show you around the neighborhood. We should have the meal ready sometime after four.”

Hermann feels ever so slightly overwhelmed, having spent most of his childhood in Germany and a handful of years later in England, Thanksgiving was understandably not a holiday the Gottlieb house had done anything to mark. He’s aware of the holiday of course, and that it seems to be an occasion- as seems to him to be the case with many American holidays- for excess and gluttony. The Gesizlers seem nice enough from his interactions with them so far, but the older boy is already steeling himself for the inevitable questions about whether or not he’s sure he’s had enough to eat, and not so subtle appraising glances and comments about how skinny he is. He doesn’t have the first idea what exactly ‘the parade’ has to offer. Newton had actually gone so far as to check his bag before they left just to be sure he was leaving anything that might be considered work behind, because _‘it’s called a holiday break for a reason, Herms,’_ but Hermann can’t help but feel a little lost without any of his equations or laptop. His lab partner seems to walk a fine line at times, but nobody could ever mistake Hermann for being much of a people person, or even a conversationalist.

He’s tempted to ask if there’s any sightseeing or hot spots that Newton might like to show him or thinks that he may enjoy, but the younger boy seems substantially closer with his father and uncle than Hermann is with Lars; it doesn’t seem right somehow to tear him away, particularly with the workload Newton is slogging through for yet another PhD. He looks over to Newton instead, and offers up a shrug that he hopes communicates well enough that he will defer to whatever it is Newt prefer.

“We’ll think about it,” Newt answers for them, nodding to his uncle before he disappears to look in on the kitchen and Jacob. “Pop-tart,” he offers with a small smile, pulling out the chair beside him for Hermann.

“No thank you,” the older boy replies, managing to bite back any critical comments about Newton’s choice of breakfast foods leaving something to be desired. While he’s not the least bit convinced the pastries don’t make up a normal part of the other boy’s diet, Hermann supposes in this particular instance, the simplicity of the meal saves the two men currently busy in the kitchen any extra work or having to share the tiny kitchen with another body. To that end, he feels a little guilty in hoping for something else for his own breakfast.

“Herms,” Newt probes softly, one hand slowly reaching out, making sure to telegraph his movements so as not to startle the older boy, before covering his hand with his own. “Geht es dir gut?”

Hermann lets his eyes drift over to where Newt’s warm hand has covered his own; thinking about the way Newton who is almost by nature a demonstrative and physically affectionate, not to mention impulsive sort of person, has managed to restrain himself for his benefit since becoming aware of his unfamiliarity and unease. The last and more significant time they had touched before last night had been the dance they shared the evening of the PPDC dinner. Hermann is almost sad for the wine and anxiousness he had felt that rather numbed him to the novelty. Mostly he remembers how handsome he’d thought Newton looked, how awkward and simultaneously thrilled he’d been to have been having a good enough day to manage without his cane and that Newton had even wanted to dance with him. He remembers green eyes, large and warm staring up at him with pride and happiness. He remembers feeling for a moment as if everything and everyone else just slipped away, as if they were the only two in the room, because Newt was looking at him as if he was the only one that mattered. He remembers for the first time in longer than he can account for, thinking about and hoping for a kiss.

Newton’s hand where it rests atop of his own is warm, unexpectedly comforting; the idea of losing this contact, simple and innocent as it is, has Hermann turning his hand over to clasp Newt’s before he can stop or second guess himself. “Yes,” the older boy replies finally with a small, but entirely sincere smile. “Mir geht es gut. Danke, Newt.” Hermann isn’t immediately sure what he’s done or said to merit the brilliant smile that lights up the younger boy’s face, but decides he very much likes it and would enjoy not only seeing it, but being the cause of that smile more often. There was a time such a smile would have made him uncomfortable. And while yes, some part of him he wouldn’t dream of owning up to is still dying to know what he’s done right, Hermann finds himself perfectly contented to simply relish it while the moment lasts.

“You called me Newt,” the younger boy says finally, eyes sparkling with happiness. Hermann thinks perhaps if he’d known it would make him this happy, he may have called him by his silly nickname sooner. Perhaps not though, they do, both of them, often enjoy a kind of friendly antagonistic war between them.

“I still prefer Newton,” Hermann sniffs, not wishing to seem too sentimental or reveal the heart on his sleeve.

“You would math nerd,” Newt chuckles shaking his head.

“Bio-geek,” Hermann returns, but without any real bite, before they lapse into silence again for a moment.

“The parade would bore you,” Newt manages to blurt out finally, breaking the silence before it can stretch on any longer, though Hermann finds it more amusing than irritating in the way he had some months before. He nods, trusting the other boy’s assessment. “I don’t think I’ve ever sat through the whole thing.” Hermann longs to say that there are probably plenty of things Newton hasn’t sat through to the end, but bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to argue today. Today is allegedly about being thankful, and Hermann is grateful to have found in Newt if not a kindred spirit, then certainly a complimentary one, he thinks he can muster being a little less grouchy than usual for the day; he’s certainly going to try.

“Most places probably won’t be open,” Newt continues thoughtfully. “But there’s a coffee shop down the street that makes some pretty good tea,” he offers, lighting up a little as the thought occurs to him, and looking to Hermann for approval or rejection of the idea. “I mean, you drink the stuff more than I do, so I suppose it could still be terrible, but I think it’s pretty good,” he babbles a bit nervously. “They also have pretty good muffins and stuff, since you didn’t want any pop-tart. Get us out of the house and their hair for a little bit,” he offers with an uncertain half shrug towards the kitchen where the muted voices of Jacob and Illia can be heard arguing over which preparation of the potatoes will be the best.

“Some tea and a fresh muffin sounds great,” Hermann agrees, reluctantly letting go of Newt’s hand. “Just let me get my coat.”

“Oh, I’ll grab it for you dude,” the younger boy offers, shooting up out of his chair with more of the manic sort of energy Hermann has become accustomed to with him. “Upstairs over your suitcase, right,” Newt asks, not even waiting for a response. “Be right back,” he calls happily.

They wind up going to see a movie afterwards, because Newt-like himself- breezed through and didn’t really fit in with his peers in his earlier schooling, so a tour of the place just feels silly, and the small theater is still open for those who don’t have anywhere else to be or anything to do with the holiday. It feels a little bit… frivolous going to see a film, the idea of celebrating a holiday at all with the ever looming threat of the Kaiju. Hermann can all but hear what his father might have to say about the ridiculousness of it all, his disappointment in Hermann for indulging such a trivial pursuit, but Newt gently puts his arm up on the shared armrest beside his own and for the first time in years Hermann manages to temporarily silence the echoing voice of Lars Gottlieb in his head. For a moment, he allows himself to be just like most everybody else- to pretend that the world isn’t potentially coming to an end any day now. Hermann allows himself to delve and escape a little into the narrative on the big screen in front of them: a less difficult challenge than usual since Newt didn’t insist on seeing the newest monster/disaster film, but surprised him by suggesting the Turing biopic he’s been waiting to see.

“You have his haircut,” Newt observes as they are leaving the theater later that afternoon. “I mean, you mentioned wanting to see it, and I knew Turing was a fellow math-guy and all, but you’re not the kind of guy to do anything by accident, certainly not a haircut. You really admire him, huh?”

“You saw the same film I did, Newton. There’s a lot to admire. Turing was well ahead of his time, and a brilliant contributor to the fields of mathematics and computer science, even mathematical biology, and artificial intelligence.”

Newton personally thinks Turing might also be accurately thought of and described as a bit of an outcast, even lonely, if he’s not projecting that on to him as another bright mind ahead of his peers- the film had certainly seemed to suggest as much with its depiction of his sad end, but instead offers, “A lot like you,” before he can stop himself. Hermann smiles a little, seeming to take the other boy’s observation as a high compliment.

“I’d like to think so,” Hermann admits, a little shyly, a slight flush of pink appearing at the tips of his ears, Newt is sure wasn’t there before and isn’t simply because of the chilly air.

“Are you gay,” Newt blurts out suddenly unable to contain the thought any longer, mentally kicking himself the moment the words have left his mouth and wishing he could melt into the nearest brick wall or the sidewalk under his feet.

“What,” Hermann asks sounding startled.

“Oh _Gott_ ,” Newt groans, hiding his face in his hands and tugging at his messy hair. “Scheiße. Fick mich. Nevermind. I shouldn’t have just- Jesus, I’m sorry- I… Blöd!,” Newt babbles, though clearly this last bit is more for himself than for the other boy beside him, who’s abruptly stopped to stare at him. Hermann steers him carefully over to the nearest wall, forcing him to sit down, and dragging one of the younger boy’s hands up to his chest, encouraging him to watch and match the way he breathes in and out, and slowly calm down. When Newt seems to have regained awareness and control of himself again, Hermann slowly lets go of his hand. Crouching like this, even on a good day, cannot possibly be good for the older boy’s leg or hip, so once he’s a little more composed Newt is quick to scramble to his feet, and make sure Hermann can manage to do the same well enough with his cane. 

“I’m sorry,” Newt apologizes again before Hermann has the opportunity to say anything. “That’s probably not something that normal people just go around blurting out like that, and you’re a private kind of guy, I get that. I- I want to respect that,” _even if it drives me a little mad not knowing sometimes_ , Newt thinks. “You don’t have to answer. In fact let’s just pretend I didn’t ask, shall we?”

"[Verschnaufen](), Newt," Hermann instructs him patiently. "I'm not offended. You just surprised me that's all. As to blurting it out, I'm well aware and accustomed to your blunt observations and deliveries by now. Anyway, we neither of us are very good at being normal, are we," the older boy smiles sympathetically. "I am-gay," Hermann clarifies, just in case he's not yet made it obvious. "It's just not something I advertise much, though I suppose I should have said something before... last night- If this makes you uncomfortable, I am sure we could figure out more agreeable sleeping arrangements," Hermann begins.

"Are you kidding me," Newt interrupts in disbelief, because _really? Hermann thinks that he's the one that's in the wrong here? That he had done anything more than to curl up on his side of the bed against the wall and occupy as little space of the mattress as seems humanly possible?_ "I hate sleeping alone. Last night was the best sleep I had in _ages_. I'm the one that should be apologizing, I was the one that was wrapped around you like some kind of cephalopod this morning." Hermann's ears are turning pink again, accompanied by distinctly rosier cheeks this time, and Newt has a sinking feeling he's only opened his mouth still wider to now insert his other foot. "Crap, I should really just- I'm going to stop talking now for a bit, okay?" Hermann smiles a little, somewhere between sympathy and amusement, trying to estimate exactly how long Newt will be able to stick to this resolution.

"We should probably head back, before your father and uncle start to worry about where we got off to. Dinner should be ready soon," Hermann reminds him patiently.

Nodding, Newt forces himself to match Hermann's pace as they make their way back to the car, simultaneously trying to calm his anxious thoughts, and keep his feet on the ground. He's made a complete idiot of himself, true, although that's hardly anything new, but there's at least a slightly better chance than he'd believed when he woke up this morning that maybe, just maybe, Hermann might be interested in something more than the friendship they already share. He dashes over and promptly vomits in a nearby trashcan. _Stupid nerves._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Geht es dir gut?_ (Are you alright?)  
>  _Mir geht es gut. Danke_ (I am fine. Thank you)  
>  _Scheiße_ (shit)  
>  _Fick mich_ (Fuck me!)  
>  _Blöd_ (Idiot)  
>  _Verschnaufen_ (Take a breath)


	10. Parallels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vraFangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

“I’m omnisexual,” Newt blurts out once he’s finally convinced Hermann he’s alright, that he simply worked himself up too much, and they begin to drive back to the Geiszler home. “Scheiße, I’m doing it again, huh? I’m sorry. I just thought since I kind of made you share… But why would you want to know-“

“Omnisexual,” Hermann interrupts softly, looking somewhere between curious and confused. “Is that even an actual classification for someone’s sexual orientation?”

“Yeah,” Newt nods, “Well I mean, I guess most people call it Pansexual, but that doesn’t sound as cool. You think of ‘pan’- you think pandemic or something awful like that. ‘Omni’- though that’s like those cool swiss army knives, or that bit of tech from Mass Effect with all the gadgets. Besides we’ve got Captain Jack Harkness on our team. Fictional, I grant you, but pretty fucking awesome regardless.

“I know- Well, at least I think you’re speaking in English, but I don’t think I understood a word of that,” Hermann marvels, shaking his head. Count on Newton to worry more about words with similar prefixes and their associations more than potential stereotypes or prejudice that might accompany his sexuality, the older boy thinks somewhat fondly. “Who is Jack Harkness?”

"Beobachten Sie die Straße," the older boy all but shouts as a stunned Newt turns to stare at him in disbelief, before jumping a little in his skin at the older boy’s scolding and turning back to the road in front of them.

"Herms, you are a disgrace to the British."

"I’m not British, Newton. As you are already well aware, I’m German," Hermann replies tersely.

"Yeah, but you and your family lived in the UK for a while, how can you not know about Doctor Who or Torchwood?"

"Because some of us were rather busy."

"Of the two of us, who already has one PhD under their belt," Newt smirks, shaking his head. "Aw, c’mon Herms, I was only teasing. You were working hard on developing that badass new code for the Jaegers right? That’s every bit as impressive and awesome, dude, but you have to let yourself live a little too," Newt points out when the older boy scowls a little, determinedly turning to stare out the window and glare grumpily at everything they passed. "Okay, when we get back to campus I’m fixing this. Not knowing who Captain Jack Harkness is that is practically inexcusable."

Hermann sighs, knowing better than to think that he might somehow be able to dissuade the younger boy from his plan. "Alright," he replies resignedly with a nod, Newt practically cheers.

...

Hermann is pleasantly surprised to find that Thanksgiving dinner, at least in the Geiszler household, features a great deal of German or German-influenced dishes that goes a long way to making him feel a little less out of place. And Newton seems to have blessedly either forgotten, or temporarily let go of any further discussion about his or Hermann’s sexuality, since the somewhat awkward drive back. Jacob and Illia ask about the movie, then about Hermann’s family, and blessedly make no mentions of how skinny the older boy is or whether he’s eaten enough. Hermann talks a little of his Karla and Bastien, a little less of Dieterich, and hesitates at the mention of Lars, before Newton astutely shifts the conversation back to school and their studies, and he’s more than happy to let the younger boy take over explaining about the progress he’s making in his research into artificial tissue replication. Hermann can’t pretend that he understands much of it, something which he suspects may also be the case with both of the older men, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times, but the potential implications are easy enough to appreciate, and not for the first time Hermann is struck by just how brilliant Newton is.

How many people have missed this? Dismissed him? Because of his appearance, his impulsiveness and sometimes flightiness? Because they deemed him too much work to be around or tolerate? _He_ had almost missed this, Hermann thinks softly watching Newton attempt to break down his process in slightly less scientific and technical terms for Jacob and Illia. True, Hermann would still assert that Newton looks nothing like any sort of serious, self-respecting scientist, but the difference between now and when they had first met some months ago in the biology lecture is that Hermann no longer cares. Newton doesn’t look like any other scientist, because he isn’t like anyone else, and where once that would have scared and annoyed him, it only seems to endear him now. It would be nice of course, if once in awhile he was a little less reckless, thought about what he does or says before plunging in, but Hermann doesn’t want to change him, not really.

It’s only when Newton is carefully nudging his leg under the table with his foot that Hermann realizes he’s been staring, and is being waited on for some kind of response. The younger boy’s face seems to fall a little when it’s clear that Hermann has missed whatever the question was and asks for it to be repeated. Hermann wants to reassure him that it's anything but a lack of interest, but doesn't quite know how best to say so. It's possible when Newton is smiling and laughing a few minutes later at some joke that his father made the moment has been forgotten, but Hermann is aware enough of the younger boy's tendency to agonize over things sometimes he resolves to find something intelligent and comforting to say to him later, some way of reassuring him.

Comforting is... well, it's never exactly been Hermann's forte. Too often it meant pity; Hermann had never had any use or desire for pity. But he doesn't pity Newton. Or if he does, it's certainly not all he feels, or the biggest motivating force in his interactions with him. Of course some part of him wishes that perhaps Newton wouldn't have to suffer some of the difficulties that what he so often refers to as his 'faulty neurochemistry,' but the older boy reminds himself, it's entirely possible-likely even- that without his Borderline, anxiety, and various neuroses, Newton wouldn't be the same boy that Hermann has come to know and care so much for. He supposes, although he's begrudged to acknowledge the parallel, the same might be said of his more visible handicap. Perhaps he'd be less of the 'grumpy old man' Newton is so fond of teasing and accusing him of being. Would Newton prefer that hypothetical version of him better? Would a more able-bodied Hermann have stood a better chance? _No_ , Hermann thinks scolding himself, he knows better-has been down that road before- no good comes of thinking like that. His body will improve only in it's ability to betray him as time goes on, and probably far faster than he would like. He's not foolish enough to hope that confirmation of Newton's being open and potentially attracted to all and even agender individuals, means his prospects are any better. And some part of him, however lonely he may sometimes feel, wonders if perhaps it's selfish to think or wish for any sort of serious relationship, if there's a chance one day his partner will be forced, at least to some extent, to become his caregiver. Hermann doesn't know if he could bear that, and it's certainly nothing like he wants for- or that Newton might deserve.

The older boy forces himself back into the conversation once more, listening intently, and contributing where appropriate, fighting to pull himself free of the toxicity of self-pitying thoughts, and thinks he does an admirable job. The meal has to end sometime, however, and the conversation eventually begins to wind down as the evening does as well. Jacob and Illia eventually bid them both good night; and just like that the thoughts he's been working so hard to push back into the corner of his subconscious return to the forefront when he's forced to lean a little against the banister to climb the stairs. He shouldn't be feeling any measure of happiness that Newton is trailing dutifully a few steps behind him and has made no mention of new sleeping arrangements, but he can't help but feel grateful for it. Hermann doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts right now, and even if they don't stay up and talk, even if Newton falls asleep first again and leaves him with only the company of his snores and the warmth of his body beside his, Hermann thinks the sensation being as rare for him as it is, it might just be enough.

Newt isn’t sure what he was expecting to happen exactly after Hermann coming out, and his own awkward confession that afternoon. The older boy crawls into bed after they've both changed into their respective nightwear, and yeah Newt supposes it makes sense he’d get the comfier place to sleep given that his body will protest more violently if he doesn’t. He's about to grab a pillow or two and move downstairs, because it seems like... well it might be rude to just assume that the older boy still wants his company while sleeping, but Hermann scoots over and shoots him a look that clearly says ’ _well, aren’t you coming?‘_ and Newt decides against questioning him or waiting for Hermann to change his mind. The younger boy shuffles around a bit looking for the middle ground between what comes naturally to him (snuggling, though it’s more often than not a pillow), and giving the older boy his own space. Hermann lets him roll around for a few minutes, before sighing, rolling over on to his back, and taking the younger boy’s arm, pulling it over his chest.

"I’m not used to touch, Newton," Hermann mumbles softly, a full belly of rich food slowly beginning to make him feel as drowzy as the other boy looks as he blinks sleepily back at him. "But yours isn’t unpleasant. Ich vertraue dir." Newt smiles. They lie there for a minute, both too tired and contented to risk breaking the silence, before Hermann begins to catalog and idly trace the various designs on the other boy's arm with his fingers. He's seen a few of them before of course, Newton often rolling up his sleeves to keep them out of the way while they work on their labs together, but in a t-shirt, Hermann is able to see that some span up to his shoulder, perhaps connecting to the one just below his neck that sometimes peaks out of his shirt. He can't think of any justifiable circumstances in which he might have the opportunity to see the younger boy shirtless, but it's hardly a novel thought since he first started to realize he might be attracted to his lab partner.

“Dude, I knew it. You dig my tattoos,” Newt mumbles with something of a pleased smirk into Hermann’s shoulder, pulling him from his reverie.

“Don’t be ridiculous Newton,” Hermann scoffs, but his fingers continue to trace the patterns and images scrawled across the arm that the younger boy has stretched out over him. Newt snorts, clearly unconvinced. “Did it hurt,” Hermann asks him softly after another few moments of silence pass between them. Newt stiffens a little and the long, thin fingers that had been delicately tracing some of the sunbursts at his wrist abruptly freeze where they are resting over a series of lines of raised skin that while well concealed by the ink to the naked eye are certainly easily detectible through touch, awaiting some kind of reprimand or demands to take them away that never comes. Newt draws in a long, steadying deep breath instead, slowly blowing it out against Hermann’s neck, before he replies.

“Yeah,” Newt admits softly. “That was kind of the point though,” the younger boy confesses softer still. “I figured it was a hurt I caused, that I was in control of, that I could stop whenever I wanted, something physically tangible, you know,” Newt continues. He shrugs, less because he’s actually nonchalant about all of this, and more because he feels like he’s floundering here trying to explain to Hermann something he’s never really talked about in any depth or with anyone else- aside from his old therapist before. This is Hermann though. Newt trusts him. He’s made a fair number of errors in judgment in the past, and some part of him has to acknowledge that it’s at least possible this is yet another one. Hermann could hurt him.  Really hurt him, in a way that Newt hasn’t allowed anyone to get close enough to do in years. And it could be his faith in him is more of an extension of whatever these persistent and mixed feelings are for him, than anything Hermann has actually done so far to earn his trust. But God it’s nice having someone that he can talk to. And Newt can talk to Hermann about all manner of intellectual endeavors and maybe not all of it is the older boy’s fields or interests, but he can actually keep up. Hermann hasn’t been scared away by any of his more difficult behaviors and antics so far, so maybe Newt can trust him with this part of himself too. How incredible would it be to have someone else he could actually talk to about every facet of himself with, besides his uncle?

“No,” Hermann whispers softly, turning his head to meet Newt’s gaze. “Getting the tattoos on top of the scars, I meant,” the older boy clarifies. _Though I am sorry that you hurt so much_ , he thinks. But Hermann doesn't know how to go about saying as much without this becoming a very different conversation, one Newton probably isn't keen on having with him yet, given the way he reacted to him touching the scars.

“Oh. Yeah,” Newt nods softly. Again Newt thinks, that had kind of been part of the point, at least for him. “Yup it hurt like hell compared to some of the other ones, but-“ the younger boy struggles, trying to find the right words. “Well, I kind of like to think I reclaimed the space. Cutting myself up might have felt good in the moment, but it wasn’t really control over anything, was it? I mean I was giving in, letting my screwed up thought patterns and brain chemistry win, right?”

“Reclaiming the space,” Hermann hums thoughtfully, nodding, fingers slowly resuming their tracing. “So why Kaijus?”

Newt smiles, resisting the urge to correct Hermann’s improper plural. “C’mon Herms, you’ve seen my dorm, the walls of this room, you know the kind of movies and anime I’m into, it can’t be that big of a surprise.” Hermann doesn’t immediately reply, but Newt can practically feel Hermann’s disappointment in his dismissive response. “My dad,” Newt begins, before he can think better of it or second guess himself. “He and my mom were both married to other people when they met each other. I came along, and… well,” he shrugs softly. “Turns out my mom didn’t really want me or my dad, so he tried to salvage the family he already had. Dad came by for birthdays and after the holidays when he could, but he wasn’t really around enough to know much about kids,” _Or me for that matter_ , Newt thinks. “So he took me to a monster movie marathon at an old theater for my seventh birthday, and that was pretty much it.”

“That seems a bit young,” Hermann remarks softly, not that he has much in the way to compare it to. Lars would never have entertained the idea of wasting a day on cinema of any genre, much less monster movies.

“Like I say, he didn’t really know much about kids. Besides, I did a lot of things pretty young,” Newt smiles. “Anyway, ever since then I was always into monster movies and that sort of thing. People talk about their mental illnesses or disabilities being demons a lot, but I’ve never been particularly religious, so- monsters,” Newt explains.

“I know what most people say about my tattoos, being tasteless and all that, but I like them. The Kaiju have caused levels of destruction no one has ever seen before, and yeah that sucks, but… they’re also pretty incredible. I mean, there’s so much about them we don’t know or understand yet, how each one of them is a little different from the one before it, what their diets are, sleeping patterns, mating patterns. They’re brand new creatures. And yeah they’re pretty scary, but that’s no different than anything new or that we don’t fully understand. Lions, Tigers, and bears were all probably pretty terrifying when man first encountered them, but now that we know and understand them, we can respect them for the fantastically evolved predators that they are, even admire them. Maybe I’m just ahead of most of the curve with the Kaiju.”

“You sympathize with them,” Hermann deduces quietly. “With people being afraid of something different they don’t understand.”

And maybe Hermann is not so sure about sympathizing with something like the Kaijus, but he has to admire Newton's curiosity, and can't help but think that maybe if Newton really is that interested in them, he might be well placed to look for something within the PPDC's science and research division as well. It certainly couldn't hurt for the scientists and engineers building the Jaegers, not to mention their pilots, having a better idea of what they are up against, and the best methods to go about fighting them. He's not really asked Newton much about what he plans to do after his next PhD. He supposes he could continue to teach, even in the face of an uncertain future it seems there are enough students to keep most schools open, people acting as though there is certainty of a future until they are forced to acknowledge there won't be one. And what little he did manage to catch of the younger boy's talk about artificial tissue replication sounded equally promising. He wouldn't necessarily have to stick with the medical field once he's made his discovery, but there are plenty of scientists who get a bit... tichy seeing their 'babies' in anyone else's hands. Hermann suspects, that perhaps Newton himself isn't sure about what he may want or where he'd like to be in the future, as evidenced by his dabbling in so many different hobbies and disciplines, and probably not much helped by his sometimes chaotic mind. The decision should be Newton's, so the suggestion will have to be just that, and made delicately at the proper time, he thinks. Hermann neither wants to give the impression that he is needy in trying to steer him towards the Academy like himself, or that he doesn't believe Newton has it in him to stand on his own without him. Newton can and will do incredible things wherever he ends up, the older boy has no doubts. It's his own motivations he's not sure of, he won't bring it up until he can be sure he isn't making the suggestion selfishly. They can surely still be friends with one another without sharing parallel career trajectories, though just the thought that they might not always be _this_ close, that one day Hermann will have to get used to not being touched like this again makes him shift ever so slightly closer to Newton all the same, determined to savor and commit it all to memory to draw from later.

“I guess I do, maybe a little anyway. I can’t really hold it against anybody though. Sometimes I scare me. I don’t always know when or what might set something off, and I can’t always be sure I’m not overreacting, so I’m always questioning and second-guessing myself. I get overly attached and dependent on other people, because they make me feel sort of anchored somehow, but I can be insecure, even jealous, that’s a lot of pressure for another person.” Newt swallows, tensing ever so slightly against Hermann.

“I’m still here, Newt,” the older boy replies after a moment’s pause when it’s clear Newt’s no longer certain of what else he should or might say.

“Yeah Herms, yes, you are,” Newt smiles softly, fighting and failing to stifle a yawn. “Thank you.”

Hermann is quiet for a moment, considering. He still thinks in German first, still chooses his words as much as he can with painful attention to detail and with infinite care, still slips back into German when he’s frustrated, angry, or emphatic, because he worries there is something of their meaning or strength will be misplaced in translation to English. So when he does find what he wants to say, they come out first in his mother tongue, knowing and grateful that Newt will understand them, that nothing need be lost.

“Du bist ein gutter Mensch, Newton,” Hermann smiles, slowly, cautiously-because touch is still something of unfamiliar territory to him, and he’s still trying to determine what Newton too is comfortable with (though he’s made no objections so far)- Hermann turns his hand over from its previous task of tracing the younger boy’s tattoos in order to lace his fingers with his. “Du bist ein guter Freund. Sie haben einen brillanten Verstand ,” he continues with a small, fond smile. “Sie sind mehr als die Monster, die du kampfen. And anyone that doesn’t take the time to see that? Verdammt nutzlos,” Hermann concludes emphatically shaking his head.

There’s a moment of silence that falls between them in which Hermann doesn’t dare draw breath, terrified he’s finally gone and said too much, that Newt will read between the lines and Hermann will have finally screwed up the one good, and perhaps longest-lasting friendship he’s ever had. And then the younger boy lets out a tired sort of snuffle against his shoulder, nuzzling closer into him with a contented hum. He’s fallen asleep, or is very nearly there.

“I think you’re pretty terrific too, Hermann,” Newt mumbles into his shirt. Hermann blushes. It doesn’t mean anything, or- it doesn’t mean what Hermann would probably like it to at least, but he lets the words echo in his mind and soak in, and for a moment relishes the way it makes his heartbeat hiccup slightly anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Scheiße_ (shit)  
>  _Beobachten Sie die Straße_ (Eyes on the road!)  
>  _Du bist ein gutter Mensch_ (You are a good person)  
>  _Du bist ein guter Freund_ (You are a good friend)  
>  _Sie haben einen brillanten Verstand_ (You have a brilliant mind)  
>  _Sie sind mehr als die Monster, die du kampfen._ (You are more than the monsters you are fighting)  
>  _Verdammt nutzlos_ (Fucking useless)


	11. Agitant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

They've moved at some point while they were sleeping, _probably his doing_ , Hermann thinks since he fell asleep before Newton had moved his head off of the older boy's shoulders, so he could reposition himself and some pillows for his hip. He can already tell it's a little stiff, but it's not really painful yet, he's had much worse. No, his more pressing concern is that at some point in the middle of the night one or both of them have shifted in such a way that he's woken up practically nose to nose with Newton, and there's a tattooed arm slung over him just above his waist anchoring him there. An inch or two more, perhaps a tilt or turn of his head and they could be kissing, Hermann's brain supplies entirely _un_ helpfully, heart thudding in his chest.

Had this been what Newton had been talking about happening the night before, the younger boy wrapped around him like a what was it... A Cephalopod? A small fond smile quirks at the corners of the older boy's mouth. He can think of worse things to wake up to than the soft sounds of Newton's snores and this sort of rare peaceful expression on his slumbering face. Therein lies the problem, of course, Hermann could all too easily get used to this. He'd _like_  to get used to this, but he's all too aware of all the reasons why he shouldn't or can't. So resolved, Hermann determines that continuing to lie here and watch his best friend sleep is probably not going to help matters any, not to mention could be construed as a bit creepy, and thinks perhaps a slightly cold shower is in order. So of course, the universe in all its infinite sense of humor and irony decides for the scream of a fire engine to break the otherwise peaceful silence of early morning, startling his companion into bolting upright and plow right into the older boy's noise.

Hermann groans letting out a sharp string of curses in both German and English as he pinches the bridge, trying to assess whether his nose is going to bleed or not. It doesn't, but it certainly smarts. Newton who is still getting a grip on his surroundings, fighting off the last vestiges of sleep, blinks several times rubbing the crown of his head, before he seems to catch on to what happened, tangling his legs still further in the sheets wrapped around him as he quickly tries to sit up and look his companion over. _It's really not that bad_ , Hermann assures him, certainly not worth this much fuss, but the protests quickly die out as Newton's gently framed his face between his hands to 'make sure he didn't break anything.' It's strange Hermann thinks, that he's gone so long without much in the way of physical contact or touch with anyone, yet somehow touching Newton or more often Newton touching him feels like the most natural thing in the world even if it's the first time he's experienced it, but somehow when the moment and that touch inevitably have to end it always feels a bit stilted and awkward. Newton usually winds up babbling some nonsense, or else Hermann is making some excuse to run away and out as much distance between them as possible before his friend can figure out how much he enjoys the contact, and how much more he pines for because it's never going to happen.

The rest of the weekend passes pleasantly, and all too quickly before they're both taking the train back to campus on Sunday to prepare for their classes the following morning. They part ways shortly after getting back with a brief hug. Hermann still determined to find a way of paying Newton and his uncle back for his ticket and his family's hospitality and trying hard not to think about how cold, empty, and too large his bed will feel this evening now that he won't be sharing his sleeping space. Although he reminded himself at least he won't have to wrestle for a portion of the comforter anymore. Karla's called and left him a video message, asking what he got up to for the American holiday and expressing her hope that he at least took something resembling a break and isn't pushing himself too hard. Hermann decides to call her back since sleep seems to be alluding him until he remembers the time difference. She'll be getting ready or heading into work by now. With a sigh, Hermann flops back onto his bed, and does his best to bury himself in a text on theoretical physics until he's too exhausted to keep his eyes open any longer, but the sleep he downs manage to get is less than restful.

"Dude, you look like-" surprisingly enough Newt seems to catch on to what is about to come out of his mouth and abruptly stops biting his lip, searching for another word, before seeming to change his mind. "You look exhausted. Are you alright, Herms?"

"Fine," Hermann nods quickly. The last thing he needs now is for the other boy to worry about him, or probe into why he looks as tired as he does. Newton rather looks a bit run down himself, though Hermann's familiar by now with the younger boy's tendency to maintain rather erratic sleeping habits. Perhaps he simply got carried away working on one of his projects again. It's a far better, less pitiful, excuse than his own at least: that somehow in the span of three days he's forgotten how to sleep alone.

"Too excited," Newt asks pulling him out of his thoughts.  _Yes,_  Hermann thinks skeptically, because of the two of them he's definitely the more likely to stay up because he's just that _'excited'_ about something.

"Excited," he manages instead confused.

"Yeah, word is they finally finished with scoring the last of the drift compatibility surveys over the break," Newt replies eagerly looking around the room.

"I feel as though we've had this conversation before," Hermann grouses with a heavy sigh readjusting his bag against the hip that's being good to him today before making his way into the alcove where Newton is leading them because he _knows_ they have. He'd nearly, and quite happily he might add, forgotten about the bloody things. Now it was sure to be all anyone would be talking about for weeks to come.

"Aren't you the least bit curious," Newt probes taking the seat on the small bench beside him to wait for the lists to be posted.

"No," Hermann replies grumpily. He's not. Hermann does not care who this survey will suggest that he's most compatible with, because whatever they suggest it's not true. Hermann isn't ever going to be a Jaeger pilot, and he's not really compatible with much of anyone. Just a liability, a weight to slow someone down and hold them back, he thinks scowling at his cane where it leans up against his desk.

"Do you care if I look," Newt asks gently. "At who you're matched with? I'm just curious-" the younger boy offers, starting to become a little breathless in a way Hermann's come to recognize is nerves and a sign of impending babbling. Personally, the older boy thinks what Newton is borders on something closer to _nosey_ in this case, but he doesn't suppose there's much harm in indulging him. "...I won't say anything if you really don't want to know-"

"Yes, fine. Better hop to it," Hermann nods towards the board across the hall where a professor is taping up several pages. Newt grins as if he's just given him some kind of gift, and rushes up with the rest of the crowd to the board to read the results. Hermann leans back against the wood bench and shuts his eyes, already having determined this will be largely a waste of time today, trying to drown out the inane chatter, before a loud ' _What-the-fuck? Is this some kind of joke_ ' from one of the students catches his attention.

He can pick out Newton's voice well enough demanding to know what the fuss is about, but can see from his seat that the other boy is too short to see over the heads and shoulders and hasn't quite made his way to the lists yet. There's a sickening sort of twist in Hermann's stomach as the crowd seems to suddenly become aware of Newton and part for him, and the older boy is on his feet making his way over to the group and pushing towards the front and his friend as quickly as he can manage.

Newton meanwhile, too excited and curious to question his good fortune with the crowd parting for him rushes up to the board and finds his name on the list, specifically at the very top of the list, just beside Hermann's, and an incredibly high compatibility score, does a double take, then openly gapes.

" _No way_ ," Newt blurts out astonished.

"My thoughts exactly," agrees one of the other boys up at the front angrily. "Where'd the Prof go? This is all just some stupid prank," he says sounding as though he's trying to reassure himself as much as the rest of the group. "I mean it's bullshit, right? Where are the real scores? No way Geiszler and Gottlieb are the most drift compatible out of all of us. 98-percent? That's higher than the Striker Eureka team. It's either a joke or rigged. They don't have any business taking the test in the first place."

Newt who has been quietly trying to process what he's seeing, startles a little, feeling his fists clench even as he tries to keep a lid on it. "And why is that exactly," Newt challenges the other boy before he can stop himself. He thinks his name is Richard or something, but Newt's already referring to him as ' _Fotze_ ' in his head.

"Get real Geiszler, you're smart yeah, but everybody knows you're a freak. Nobody in their right mind would want to step into your head. And Gottlieb," the boy scoffs looking to his other surrounding friends and peers who join him in laughing.

"What about Hermann," Newt growls, nails biting hard into his palms now. Because Newt was prepared for this kind of shit about him. His head is... well it's a mess up there, confusing even to him at the best of times, so he's never really deluded himself into thinking anyone would want to drift with him. But shit-talking his best friend is not the least bit okay.

"Hermann Gottlieb is a smarter, funnier, braver, and altogether a better man than all of you put together could ever hope to be," Newt spits out with a positively venomous look, before Fotze can actually answer. "And if he were able to pass the physical exams you would be fucking lucky to have a guy like that share the neural load and help you through the drift, so I'd suggest you shut your mouth"

" _Newton_ ," Hermann's voice interjects softly, one hand reaching out to cover his arm. As if to say he's here, that it's all right. Except that, it isn't. These people, these- _ignorant fucking assholes_ \- think Hermann is less than somehow. And they're wrong. _Absolutely fucking wrong._ So Newt shrugs out of Hermann's grip taking another step closer to the other boy and puffing out his chest a bit in defiance, which only seems to make the group laugh more.

"Apologize," Newt growls out, glaring at their leader.

"Nah," the boy laughs looking around at his still smirking crew behind him. "I don't think so."

"Newton," Hermann tries again, warningly. "Ignore him," the older boy urges under his breath. "It's just a stupid survey. It's not worth this." Hermann has never seen Newt in an actual fight before. He knows he takes Aikido, so it's possible he could handle himself, despite this kid being twice his size, but his odds look distinctly bleaker if any of his buddies decide to join in and support him. He's hardly prepared to make a good second for his friend, but Hermann can already tell his warnings are falling on deaf ears. Newton is seeing red, and the other boy and his friends are still laughing.

Newt sucks in a deep and shaking breath, positive there's steam rolling out of his ears at this point as the group continues to laugh at his and Hermann's expense. Newt's rather gotten used to the whispers, rumors, even the outright jabs at his expense. Maybe they don't know what to call it exactly, he doesn't go around wearing a nametag or warning label on his shirt or anything, but it's not as if Newt's eccentricities and neuroses are subtle. He's learned to embrace, or to live at least, with most of them. And he's learned to live with the wary looks, and words behind his back too. But Hermann... He doesn't deserve this shit, and Newt's not nearly as used to hearing jabs and jokes made at the expense of the older boy as Hermann seems to be.

Hermann doesn't talk about his childhood or earlier school years much. He's not the kind of guy to burden anyone else with problems they can't do anything about. But Newt gets the distinct impression that Lars isn't the only bully that his friend has had in his life. Hermann is willing to accept and ignore these boy's disdain and dismissal just a little too readily. Newt can't fix what's already happened. They haven't invented any sort of time machine yet; though he thinks he wouldn't necessarily want to change it if it would alter the Hermann he knows and has come to love... He's digressing. _Again_. The point being Newt can't go back and kick the asses of everyone who's ever lead Hermann to believe that he should just get used to being picked last, overlooked, or even picked on. But he can make sure it doesn't happen again here, now, or any time when he's around to do or say something, so he's kind of compelled not to just let this go, the way Hermann and a little voice in the back of his mind are suggesting he should.

Fotze is now performing an incredibly mature and hilarious imitation the sort of limp Hermann has on days where his leg and hip are really bothering him for his friends and Newt _can't_ stop himself anymore. This can't continue. Not for a minute longer. He sucks in a deep breath and stomps his right foot with as much force as he can possibly muster. The boy shouts and curses, but he's certainly stopped mocking Hermann now. Newt is too busy feeling good about that to pay much mind to the fact Fotze, positively livid is winding up to punching him. Hermann, who up to now has felt rather powerless to stop any of it, does the only thing he can think to do and throws himself in front of Newton just in time to take the other boy's swing straight to his left eye, before he's stumbling backwards into the stunned younger boy's chest.

Newton's caught him and lets the pair of them gently collapse to the floor in short order where a stunned and watching crowd has parted for them, to assess the damage. "Herms, Gott are you alright? Warum hast du das getan?" For a brief moment he spares the boy responsible for the other's injury an absolutely murderous glare, that seems to say this is far from finished before Hermann is grabbing on to Newt's sleeve, pulling his attention back to him.

"Help me up," he asks. Hermann could manage it well enough on his own, and he hates the idea of making his friend worry over him more than he already is, but if it will keep Newton from any further trouble, he's not above being just a little bit manipulative here.

When Hermann is back on his feet again, he straightens up, turning his attention to the other boy who it seems is still trying to decide what to do now, temporarily ignoring the way Newton is nervously shuffling and mumbling behind him, still fretting over him. "What do you say you two apologize to one another, and forget this mess, and I won't tell anyone you took a swing at the crippled kid," Hermann offers calm as you please, but Newt thinks that it would be impossible to miss that icy glint in those deep brown eyes. He doesn't know what the older boy will do if the aggressor doesn't back down, but that look is daring him to find out. He makes the smarter decision and nods, quickly muttering his way through a half-sincere apology which Newton echoes, before beating a hasty retreat away from the bulletin board and the odd pair.

"Hermann that was..." Newt begins, warring with himself between being impressed, a little turned on if he's being honest because the way that Hermann growls _does things_ to him, and still upset that the other boy got hurt while he was trying to defend his honor. _Yeah, some knight in shining armor he is_ , Newt thinks disgustedly, as they too take their leave of the crowd, which has resumed their pushing and shoving to see the results of the compatibility survey.

"Completely _avoidable_ , Newton," Hermann snaps shaking his head, gingerly bringing his fingers up to touch where he was struck to assess the damage for himself, and wincing a little. That's definitely going to bruise. Newt shrinks a little, because yeah, Hermann has a point. "What _were_ you thinking of?"

"I'm sorry," Newt offers immediately, racing to keep up with Hermann's angry gait, his apology far more sincere and desperate than the one he'd offered up to the bully.  _I was thinking of you_ , Newt thinks, but by some miracle manages not to blurt out, because if Hermann's tone is anything to go on right now, the older boy would not appreciate that line of reasoning, however true, albeit convoluted, it may be. "I never expected- I didn't know you were going to step in like that. I never meant for you to get hurt." Hermann frowns shaking his head.

"So you're sorry for this," Hermann scowls gesturing to his eye, he can already feel beginning to swell a bit. He should find some ice for it, he thinks.

"Of course, I am. Herms, I-"

"But not for picking a fight with that boy, and completely ignoring me when I tried to stop you."

"But..." Newt protests before he can stop himself. "You didn't hear what he said. He-"

"So he was _asking for it_ ," Hermann asks, shooting him a sideways disapproving glance. "I do not need to have heard what he said. I very much doubt it was anything particularly new or creative. I am aware of the general gossip about me. But you cannot go off on someone simply because they do not like you. _Or me_ ," the older boy adds hastily when he sees him preparing to say something else. "Newton, you are not just a student here. There is responsibility and higher expectations of you that come with your position. How do you imagine it would look if an adjunct professor got into a physical altercation with a student? You could be fired. If that went on your record you may never be able to find another teaching post again."

Newt bites the inside of his cheek because much as he doesn't really want to acknowledge it Hermann's right. He hadn't really been considering the long-term ramifications that could have come from his actions. He'd acted on impulse and emotion. But he still thinks that he was at least right in calling the other boy to task for what he was saying and implying about him, and more importantly Hermann.

"It's not worth the risk," Hermann concludes firmly. But all that Newt can hear as he's pulled back from his thoughts is that Hermann doesn't think _he's_ worth that risk. And maybe Newt picked that fight without really thinking about how it could play out, but sticking up for Hermann is absolutely worth whatever might have come of it. But the older boy is clearly still a bit upset with him, so it doesn't seem to be the time to say so. Newt follows the older boy as he heads back to his room instead, and hesitates as Hermann opens the door, hands fidgeting nervously.

"Look I know you're still mad, but could I come in to look at and help you with that, since it's kind of my fault it happened in the first place. I really _am_ sorry," Newt apologizes again. Hermann seems to consider this for a second before he sighs, swinging the door wider and inviting him in. Hermann supposes if he really hadn't wanted Newton around he could easily have told him to go away before they made it back to his dormitory. "I seem to be hurting you a lot these days," Newt mumbles softly sounding incredibly deflated after returning from the sink and presses a cold rag gently over the older boy's eye and encourages Hermann's long thin fingers to hold it there.

"What are you talking about," Hermann asks, looking puzzled, wincing a little as he finds the right amount of pressure to apply over his socket.

"First your nose, now your eye," Newt shrugs.

"Oh, I'd already forgotten about it," Hermann admits.

"Dude, that was only two days ago. And you? Forget something? You're like some kind of elephant, you never forget anything."

"Now there's a flattering image," Hermann grumbles, and Newt assumes he's rolling both his eyes though one is still obscured behind the washcloth. "Anyway it's not like you meant to-" Hermann begins when he sees the younger boy winding up to explain, but Newt's already taken off again, talking loudly and a mile a minute, steamrolling over him. Herman bites his tongue, frowns disapprovingly, and waits until several minutes later when Newt realizes the other isn't saying anything and looks less than pleased with him again and frantically begins replaying everything he's said in the last few minutes in his head.

"You know," Hermann begins, deciding to take advantage of the temporary silence that's fallen between them before Newton decides to try and fill it again. "Just because you like to think yourself misunderstood doesn't mean that is the highest priority for everybody else."

"What? But-" Newt starts to protest.

"Sometimes it's enough to just _listen._ " Newt bites his lip, and the inside of his cheek. He'd been listening. _Sort of_ , he thinks correcting himself. He'd thought Hermann was finished, and rushed in to explain why he'd not been trying to insult him or anything by calling him an elephant _because actually, elephants are pretty cool, and Newt thinks Hermann is pretty cool too_ , and... _And Hermann had started to say something else and he totally blew right past_ it _and hardly given the older boy room for a word edgewise for the last few minutes._

"Es tut mir leid," Newt mumbles embarrassed, hanging his head a little. "I- I'd really like to hear what it was you were trying to say," he continues. "But would you be put off or disappointed if we talk about it later?"

 _It takes everything in him to ask._ There was a time when he would simply have done his best to encourage the other person to resume their discussion, but this is _Hermann_. Newt cares about what Hermann thinks and has to say; he wants to be attentive and remember it all, and he's well aware he wouldn't be able to do so right now. Hermann frowns a little studying him for a moment.

"Newton," Hermann offers softly, slowly drawing the younger boy's gaze back up to meet his. "I'm sorry too. I didn't need to snap at you like that. I know that you are..."

"Annoying, rude, loud," Newt begins supplying bitterly.

"Energetic," Hermann interrupts firmly, but with a small smile, curbing Newt's list. "I know you weren't doing it on purpose," Newt smiles a little, but it's half-hearted at best. "Vergib mir," Hermann asks softly, a small rueful smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"We're going to have arguments, Newton," Hermann continues as the younger boy frowns again. "There will be times when you get under my skin and I may snap at you, just as I don't hold any delusions that I won't have my moments of irritating or angering you."

The part of him that's prone to idolatry wants to protest, to dismiss the possibility, but Newt knows Hermann is right. He nods.

"I- Ich kann böse sein und dich nicht hassen," Hermann continues patiently. Newt nods, because yeah he know that too, and bites ban the smart remark of ' _lucky you_ ' that burns on the tip of his tongue, though Hermann probably already knows anyway. "Newton, I know I was a bit... pig-headed when we first met, but you are my friend. You're my _best_ friend," the older boy corrects. "No petty little argument or grievance is going to change that."

Newt isn't sure that he can believe that. In the end, it's never proved to be the case with any of his friendships before his one, but the words bring a smile to his face, a little extra warmth in his chest in spite of himself. Maybe it isn't true, but Newt can't remember a time when he's wanted to believe it more. Hermann has only ever been honest and direct with him before, so Newt decides to take him at his word.

"Besides," Hermann smiles softly, gently setting down the now room temperature rag beside him letting his cool and now somewhat damp hand cover the other boy's beside him, his touch and his voice drawing Newt's gaze back up to his. _And damn if the sight of Hermann Gottlieb smiling isn't enough to steal all the air from Newt's lungs._ "We're the most drift compatible pair in the school. If we can't work it out, what hope is there for anyone else?"

"You said the surveys were bullshit," Newt reminds him with a laugh, shaking his head.

"That's because there was no way of studying or preparing for it. I expected to do poorly and be partnered with a stranger who'd be just a thrilled at the prospect of being drift compatible with me as I would be with them," Hermann admits, a bit sheepishly. "But not only was it _you_ ," and Newt knows they're friends, that Hermann likes him at least most of the time, but the way the older boy says it: _like he's the best possible outcome he could have hoped for_ is both thrilling and a little bit disarming. "But we are more compatible with each other than any other match up in the entire school," Hermann smiles, eyes twinkling even through the black-eye that's starting to form around his left eye.

"Yeah," Newt grins, nodding, allowing his shoulder to bump Hermann's where he is seated beside him affectionately, and finally let go of the fear and anxiety that flooded him at the prospect of Hermann being angry with him. "Yeah, you're right," he agrees. "We're fucking _rockstars_ , Herms," Newt smiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Fotze_ (Cunt)  
>  _Warum hast du das getan?_ (What did you do that for?)  
>  _Es tut mir leid_ (I am sorry)  
>  _Vergib mir?_ (Forgive me?)  
>  _Ich kann böse sein und dich nicht hassen_ (I can be angry and not hate you)  
> 


	12. Devolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)

Hermann groans, rolling over and fumbling with his alarm, before he realizes that it isn’t responsible for the noise that drug him back to consciousness, and groans again, sliding his finger over the screen to answer the call without even looking at the caller ID.

“H’ullo,” Hermann mumbles, struggling against his usual nest of pillows and comforter to sit up.

“Herms! Wake up, lazy bones this is the third time I’ve called you already,” Newt’s voice trills in his ear, far too chipper for the hour that it is and with Hermann not having had any kind of caffeine to start the day yet.

“Newton, do you have any Earthly idea what time it is right now,” he scolds. Pulling his phone back from his cheek to examine that yes, he’s missed several texts and previous calls from Newt before picking up.

“Not really,” Newt admits brightly, and Hermann can practically _feel_ his unapologetic and enthusiastic grin over the line. “Couldn’t sleep. Decided to stay up and get some more work done. I’m so close with this artificial tissue structure. I know it. But then I saw the flakes out the window and-“

“You called me-“Hermann glances blearily over at the clock on the bedside table, still ticking down the time until his alarm is supposed to wake him. “At 3 o’clock in the morning, because it’s _snowing_ ,” the older boy groans disbelievingly.

“Well… yeah,” Newt says, managing to sound just a little more sheepish about the whole thing in the face of Hermann’s far less enthusiastic response.

“Newton it’s November, of course, it’s snowing. It’s snowed half a dozen times in the last month already.”

“Yeah, but this time it’s actually going to stick,” Newt says sounding excited. “There’re a couple good inches already, and the forecast says it’s going to keep at it all day.”

“Wonderful,” Hermann replies grumpily, slowly kicking his legs out off the bed to stand up. If he won’t be able to go back to sleep for a while, he might as well make himself some tea.

“C’mon Herms,” Newt whines softly. “Snow,” he urges as if this will somehow summon some yet undiscovered enthusiasm for being woken up.

“You know I’m not unfamiliar with snow. Saw plenty of it growing up Germany and England,” he points out, using a shoulder to hold the phone up to his ear and free up his hands as he turns the kettle on to get the water boiling.

“But it’s fresh! Completely untouched,” Newt protests. Hermann thinks that the snow will probably remain that way until much closer to 8am classes, but simply sighs, waiting for the younger boy to get to the point of why he’s really called. “Come out and play with me,” he asks hopefully.

“Newton, we’re both grown adults,” Hermann begins.

“Who could use a chance to blow off some steam. C’mon Herms, you and I both know we didn’t exactly have your average childhood. Be a kid with me- just for an hour,” he adds hopefully.

“Fine,” Hermann sighs resignedly, pulling the phone away from his ear before Newt’s cheer rings through it.

“Awesome, I’ll be by your room in 10,” Newt says, disconnecting with a click.

Hermann eyes his cane where it’s still resting in the corner of his room warily. He should probably bring it with him, his bones and muscles always ache and protest a little more in colder temperatures, but Gott he doesn’t want to. _Be a kid with me_. Newt’s not wrong pointing out that neither of them were really given much opportunity to be children in the typical sense, but Hermann especially so. Even when he wasn’t in various hospitals being poked and prodded at his siblings were generally encouraged to exclude Hermann from their games for fear of his being too fragile for them. He wants this.

If Newt notices that he’s without it when he steps out of his room to meet him, buttoned up to his chin in a P-coat that’s a few sizes too big, and a wool hat, the younger boy is kind enough not to say anything. Hermann won’t need it, he’s determined. So, of course, he manages to slip and land painfully on his right hip while they’re on their way back to grab some coffee, wet, cold, and laughing an hour or so later. Newt’s right beside him on the sidewalk in an instant, asking him questions, hands gently examining him to make sure he isn’t more hurt than he’s aware, and it should annoy him. It would, he realizes, if this were anyone else. The younger boy seems to realize the significance of this at the same time because suddenly his hands still with a soft _‘huh’._

“What,” Hermann demands curiously; because he’s been rather tight-lipped about just what exactly his condition is. Mostly because he hadn’t wanted Newt to look it up. Doesn’t want him to know what’s probably coming for him. Doesn’t want the one person who treats him like a peer, a friend, Hölle, just a fellow human being, in general, to look at him with any kind of pity.

"Nothing," Newt says quickly, shaking his head. "It's just- well, you haven't snapped at me for babying you," the younger boy shrugs.

"Because you haven't been- yet," Hermann qualifies with a glare that clearly says he's absolutely _not_ to start doing so now. "Anyway," the older boy continues, clearing his throat a little. "It's... nice, jemanden zu haben, der sich um mich besorgt ist," he admits softly, grateful for the chill in the air concealing the flush he feels creeping up to his cheeks with his words. Newt smiles, an appreciative and happy sort of twinkle dancing in green eyes.

"See I knew there was a heart in there, under all that ice," he teases warmly, and Hermann manages a soft chuckle, shaking his head, before accepting the other's hand to help him to his feet. His hip throbs a little, but not terribly, and his legs are steady enough he can make it back to his room. A hot water bottle should sort it out.

"Wenn Sie jemand sagen, werde ich dich töten," Hermann grumbles, but the threat rings just a bit hollow in light of the slight upturn of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

"Annnd there's the Hermann everybody else knows," Newt smiles fondly, wordlessly taking his arm and linking it through his as they make their way back to the building. It's an unnecessary gesture, but the older boy can't find it in himself to rob either of them of the bit of contact, even if they're separated by several layers of now soggy clothes.

“C’mon Herms, look I know you don’t want me babying you, but as a friend. You took a nasty spill. You should rest before you do worse damage. Shoot your professors an email, or give me their names and I’ll tell them. I’ll bet you’ve never missed a day this term, besides you’re bound to be light years ahead of everybody else. Just tell them you’re sick.”

“If I don’t get out of all these wet clothes, I almost certainly will be,” Hermann grumbles, hanging his coat up on the back of the door, and glaring at where it is steadily dripping, already leaving a wet spot on the carpet.

“See, you need your rest,” Newt nods, as if this is all the confirmation of his assertions that he needs, grabbing Hermann’s laptop from his desk and gently pressing it into his chest, gesturing to the bed once he’s shucked off his hat and boot, and ducking into the bathroom. Newton takes a hot shower while Hermann reluctantly emails his professors to let them know that he’s taking a sick day, and to send him a copy of the assignments he’s missed. He’ll reluctantly get the notes from a no doubt less attentive, designated note-taker, and hopefully be able to glean what he’ll miss from them and the texts. He’s just finishing up when he realizes that the water is still running. There, fortunately, isn’t time for Hermann to dwell on the possible state of undress or what his friend might look like sans clothes before the younger boy is popping his head back out to inform him he’s running him a bath.

Hermann nods. Mostly because he’s not entirely sure what other sort of response he could provide because this doesn’t seem like the sort of thing normal friends do for one another. Not that he’s known or had many himself. It’s almost a kind of domesticity they’ve fallen into when he passes off his laptop for Newton to play around on, and makes his way in to soak in the hot water, reveling in the steam that wafts over him as he opens the door; a level of trust that Hermann’s never experienced with anyone before.

“You missed a call from Karla,” Newt informs him with a small smile, closing out his tabs and setting the laptop down on the bed beside him when he comes back a little while later, cozy in the large knitted sweater and dry pants and socks the younger boy had thought to lay out on the counter for him, feeling much less worse for wear. “Just a couple of minutes ago, but I didn’t want to disturb you. I’ll get out of here so you can call her back,” Newt offers, going to gather up his now drier coat and boots. Hermann nods and presses the call button before settling himself on the edge of his bed to talk to her.

“Thank you,” he interjects thoughtfully with a small smile, watching him get ready to go back out and brave the elements and head to his various classes.

“For what,” Newt asks looking a little bit thrown. “Getting you injured, trying to make up for it…”

“Newton,” Hermann interrupts cutting him off before he can ramble any further. “Danke,"; he repeats firmly. “For letting me be a kid with you for an hour,” he smiles warmly, and Newt nods, grinning.

“Nice to finally put a name to a face,” a voice interrupts, surprising both of them as Karla smiles back at them from Hermann’s laptop where the call has silently connected some time ago. Newt blushes a little, offering a small wave to both Hermann and the screen before he’s ducking out the door to let the two siblings talk, but not before he hears, “Er ist niedlich, Liebling. Warum haben Sie gebeten, ihn noch auf ein Datum?”

“halte den Mund,” Hermann hisses, flushing a deep shade of red and checking to make sure the door is now closed, quickly shaking his head. “Er spricht Deutsch!”

“Relax, Liebling. He’s gone. But I was right. You do like him them? Bastien says he’s nearly all you talk about in your letters.”

“Bastien is prone to exaggeration,” Hermann replies flatly.

“But _you_ aren’t. I won’t get into our little brother hearing from you more than me, but you said he was smart. You rarely say that about anybody. And you did go to his family’s to celebrate Thanksgiving. How did that go? What was that about being a Geißlein,“ Karla asks smiling.

…

 _I can be angry and not hate you_.

Newt has played the words back over again and again in his mind for the next few days, sometimes in English, more often in the German it was first spoken, but always in Hermann's voice. He doesn't really know what that's like. For anger and hate to be two disparate things. Doesn't really know how to go about feeling something without it becoming all-consuming. Perhaps that's why he's been so hesitant to think about or try to classify exactly what this thing is between him and Hermann, or _his_ feelings for Hermann at least. Being around Hermann, _Scheiße_ , just _thinking_ about his friend brought on a sort of weightless feeling in the pit of his stomach- like reaching the peak of an arc while you're on the swings and waiting to start falling backward again. But Newt has never once been afraid of that feeling, never feared falling off, on the contrary in that instant, he always felt _alive, exhilarated_. Someone, somewhere he can't remember anymore said something about not knowing whether or not you can fly until you leap, a quote that had always appealed to his rather impulsive nature, he's cautious now, though- or he’s trying to be at least.

Newt can get sex or a relationship anywhere. Well, maybe not _anywhere_ … but he’s not completely without alternatives. Hermann though, Hermann is important, someone that despite their very different disciplines and future plans, Newt would like to keep around, or at the very least continue to keep in touch with. Not that he very much likes to think about the possibility of putting any sort of distance between the two of them.

The salient point here being Newt is taking things a lot slower than is normally his MO, trying to feel the situation out, but he can’t pretend that there isn’t at least _something_ there anymore. Can’t stop picturing the way Hermann had smiled and even laughed when they had been playing out in the snow together. The way he’d looked at him, thanked him for it, even though the whole thing had sort of gone tits up with Hermann having to take a personal day because of the spill he took afterward.

But Hermann whether he means to, or not, is making his sleuthing particularly difficult. Now that their sexual orientations are out in the open, or at least between the two of them, Newt’s tried pointing out or making the occasional comment about attractive peers or professors of the same sex. He’d thought, hoped even, that Hermann’s agreement, disagreement, or any comments he may have would help him determine the older boy’s type, and more importantly whether or not Newt might fit the bill. Instead, Hermann ignored most of his casual ‘observations’, and over time seemed to become increasingly annoyed with them.

“Newton, was genau wollen Sie erreichen,” Hermann huffs finally when he tries again with a more bookish looking boy as they are making their way to an open table in Hayden library together to study and work on their homework together.

“Huh? Nothing,” Newt replies, perhaps a little too quickly, if the incredulous look Hermann is giving him is anything to go on.

“You didn’t used to feel compelled to verbalize every time you saw someone you thought was attractive before,” the elder boy points out, taking a few books from his bag and arranging them on the table in front of him, before looking up to him again. “I feel like you’re testing me somehow,” Hermann admits softly. “And I’m failing,” he adds quieter still with a frown. Newt shakes his head, but isn’t entirely sure what to say, but Hermann continues. “You can’t possibly still think that I would think any less of you if there were to be a man you were interested in pursuing some manner of relationship with. And the number of partners or seriousness with which you entertain any romantic or sexual relationships aren’t really any of my concern,” Hermann replies, biting back the little voice in the back of his mind that reminds him how much he might like for it to be.

 _Shit_ , this was not going anything like he’d planned. “Es tut mir Leid. Have I been making you uncomfortable,” Newt blurts out before he can stop himself, gripping his knees nervously under the table to keep his legs from bouncing.

“No more than usual,” Hermann smiles wryly, shaking his head. “More confused, than anything,” he admits. “Whatever it is you’re trying to figure out, just ask me. I like to think I’ve gotten a little better about opening up- with you at least,” the older boy adds, and Newt is sure he’s just imagining a slight twinge of pink at the tips of Hermann’s ears, but it’s an adorable and terribly endearing mental picture all the same.

“Gott, when you say it like that,” Newt exhales shaking his head, because Hermann is absolutely right, but damn if the prospect of being that direct hadn’t been terrifying. He’s not been giving him enough credit, of course, Hermann is smart enough to pick up on his nervousness and attempts at subtlety. “I’ve been trying to figure out your type,” the younger boy admits.

“My type,” Hermann repeats furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yeah, the type of guys that you’re into,” Newt confirms, scuffing his shoes over the carpet, unable to keep himself from fidgeting from nerves any longer.

“Why?”

 _That’s the million-dollar question isn’t it_ , Newt thinks, forcing down the uncomfortable knotted sensation in his abdomen, and forcing himself to offer up what he hopes is a nonchalant shrug instead. Because I was curious, he means to say, because that certainly seems like a plausible enough answer for the consummate scientist that he is, “Because I’m interested,” he blurts out instead, immediately praying to be struck by lightning or melt into the carpet. Newt is just debating whether he should attempt to explain and pray he manages to avoid falling into babbling, or let it go and hope Hermann doesn’t make anything of it, perhaps takes it to mean the same as what he’d actually meant to say, when they pair are interrupted by a low moan from a few rows away before either has the opportunity to say anything more. _Oh Gott._

It’s quiet enough for a moment, it’s clear the source is doing their level best to keep from drawing attention to themselves, but not enough for Newt or Hermann to pretend it’s anything besides someone getting hot and heavy in the stacks. Newt snickers, because laughter is always the right answer when you’re uncomfortable, right? Hermann blushes. Honest to god, can’t be mistaken for anything else, blushes. He’s pretty much scarlet in fact by the next time Newt is brave enough to make eye contact. And yeah, that’s every bit as adorable as the younger boy had imagined.

“So,” he presses; because nobody’s ever accused him of being good at knowing when to quit while he’s ahead.

“So what,” Hermann replies, his voice sounding just a little bit choked in a way that Newt will definitely be replaying and thinking about later.

“Your type. You never did say. What sort of guy would you have back there if that was you,” he asks, shrugging towards the muffled sounds a few rows away.

“Um Gottes willen, Newton,” Hermann splutters, turning if possible even more red, then when it’s clear that Newt is still waiting for some kind of answer, “Keiner,” he replies, though Hermann is embarrassed and desperately aware that his attempt to snap at his companion comes out more like a squeak than anything else. “It’s indecent,” he manages finally in a hushed tone after swallowing hard. “Anyone could hear, walk over there and see… they could be caught.”

“Sometimes that’s part of the fun,” Newt replies with a smirk, shrugging.

“You- Have you…” Hermann stammers, heart hammering in his chest, before shaking his head vigorously. _No_ , he won’t ask, and he definitely _doesn’t_ need to know if Newton is among those that might enjoy being intimate in any way in a public and populated space. “Vergiss es.”

“Okay,” Newt nods sympathetically seeming to sense that he’s pushed the older boy too far. “But Hermann,” he says, waiting for him to look up and meet his green eyes once more. “If you ever do want to know the answer- to that, or any question- all you have to do is ask,” Newt offers with a shrug, “I’m an open book.” _For nobody more than you_ ¸ Newt thinks. Hermann seems to consider this for a moment, swallowing again, before he nods. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten you haven’t given me any kind of answer about your type,” Newt teases, trying to ease the sudden tension and discomfort between them, as they silently agree to move to another table further off and begin gathering up what few things they’ve pulled out so far to relocate.

“Gott, not you too. It’s bad enough Karla is trying to hook me up long-distance,” Hermann groans, looking momentarily up at the ceiling as he rolls his eyes.

“Oh,” Newt says in a way he hopes sounds casual, unable but to think of what he overheard brother and sister talking about as he was leaving his friend’s room a few days ago. Hermann nods, but doesn’t say anything more about it.

“And to answer your question, I- Ich weiß es nicht. My type,” Hermann clarifies softly stuffing his books back into his bag and grabbing his cane from where it’s leaned up against the table.

“Oh, well that’s okay-“ Newt begins, that’s totally fair. Truthfully, Newt’s not sure that he could pinpoint any one thing or a handful of traits that are shared by the men and women he’s been interested in. There’s something in the way that Hermann’s gone all quiet, the way he seems almost ashamed being unable to provide something more concrete, he’s dying to get to the bottom of, but he’s pretty sure he’s lucky Hermann hasn’t stopped speaking or completely shut down on him yet.

 _“Hurensohn,” _ Newt swears softly, stopping in his tracks, eyes darting around for somewhere to hide. _Too late,_ he thinks, watching as a young and attractive looking redhead carrying a small stack of books changes direction to put herself on an intercept course with them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hölle_ (hell)
> 
>  _jemanden zu haben, der sich um mich besorgt ist_ (to have someone who is concerned about me)
> 
>  _Wenn Sie jemand sagen, werde ich dich töten_ (if you tell anyone, I'll kill you.)
> 
>  _Er ist niedlich, Liebling._ (He's cute, darling.)
> 
>  _Warum haben Sie gebeten, ihn noch auf ein Datum?_ (Why haven't you asked him out/on a date yet?)
> 
>  _halte den Mund_ (shut your mouth)
> 
>  _Er spricht Deutsch!_ (he speaks German)
> 
>  _Geißlein_ (Kid/Child)
> 
>  _was genau wollen Sie erreichen_ (what exactly are you trying to achieve?)
> 
>  _Es tut mir Leid_ (I am sorry)
> 
>  _Um Gottes willen_ (for god’s sakes)
> 
>  _Keiner_ (none)
> 
>  _Vergiss es_ (Nevermind)
> 
>  _Ich weiß es nicht_ (I don't know)
> 
>  _Hurensohn_ (son of a bitch)


	13. Null Hypothesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

Hermann only just manages to stop short of an abruptly stalk still Newt, wincing a little at the slight throb it causes at his hip, but ignores it in favor of his concern for the younger boy's abrupt silence and change in mood, glancing over his shoulder, before coming to stand beside him and observe the redheaded woman now making their way over to them.

"Newton, geht es dir gut," Hermann whispers softly. He's still rather getting used to touch, or being the one to initiate it at least, far more comfortable simply to let Newt take the lead, lest he make a misstep somehow, but Newton is so still, so quiet, so uncharacteristically not himself, the older boy can't help but be concerned. Too concerned to allow any insecurities or uncertainty on his part hold him back from at least _trying_ to help somehow. Newton likes touch, has said before that it grounds him, makes him feel... safe. The young woman making her way over to them doesn't look inherently dangerous, but looks, Hermann is all too aware can be deceiving, and Newton is a sensitive soul, in both the best and worst ways. So Hermann switches bag and cane to his left, and lets his right hand slide in and grasp Newton's hand, offering it a gentle squeeze.

This it seems is finally enough to draw the other boy from his reverie, Newt twitching a little, gaze locking in momentary disbelief on their joined hands, before smiling a little, squeezing back with a soft appreciative smile, steeling himself as the young woman stops in front of them, but clearly a little less distressed than a few moments before.

"Newt," she greets, sounding far more delighted than Newton looks to be seeing her. "What a wonderful surprise. How have you been?"

"Fine," Newt manages to grind out, gritting his teeth a little, and squeezing Hermann's fingers a little, trying to draw on the stoic. It doesn't seem possible, Hermann thinks, for anyone to have missed the way the boy beside him is neither comfortable or pleased to see her, but the young woman seems completely unperturbed, her smile never faltering.

"Aren't you going to introduce me," she asks, with a kind of syrupy quality to her voice that makes Hermann inwardly cringe a little on Newt's behalf. _Who is this woman?_

"Hermann this is Ericka," Newton offers less than enthusiastically, and suddenly all the pieces click together, Hermann's eyes widening ever so slightly as he takes a second opportunity to study their interloper.

Newton has never been what anyone would likely classify as 'shy', he had thought him brash whenever they had first met, still does sometimes, but Hermann has since come to recognize and appreciate a certain level of strength, of bravery in the way that the younger boy is unapologetically himself in a way so few are, of how forthright he is with everything from his dreams and aspirations to his past mistakes and flaws. He is very much as he had assured him only moments ago, an open book, and Hermann, who has never been particularly good at reading or understanding others has come to find he genuinely appreciates this quality in his companion, however abrasive it can sometimes seem to those that don't know him any better. Newton has talked about some of his past relationships before, generally little anecdotes whenever he is feeling wistful for some reason or another, or perhaps, that too had been testing the waters, trying for some reason to determine the type of man that Hermann might be interested in. In any case, he's mentioned an Ericka before, but never happily, and incredibly rarely, second only as a least favorite topic of conversation to his absentee mother. Hermann might not know all the particulars, but for Newton to react so strong and adversely simply seeing her, for him to pointedly avoid this singular topic of conversation, it must have been particularly unpleasant, Hermann thinks, allowing his thumb to gently stroke the back of Newton's hand in an absently comforting gesture he remembers his mother and Karla once used to.

 _Es wird gut sein_ , he thinks, straightening up a little to his full height beside his friend. _Ich bin hier_ , he promises silently.

"Ericka this is my-" Newton continues, drawing Hermann back to the present and his attention to the young woman in front of him.

"Boyfriend," Hermann interrupts before Newton can finish his introduction, surprising himself nearly as much as the boy beside him who's now gaping at him with wide and wildly confused green eyes. _Gott_ , he hopes he hasn't completely misstepped and made a terrible mistake, but the words were out of his mouth before he could even think twice about them. All he knows is that this woman hurt Newton, _badly_ , and Hermann will do whatever he can to see that she isn't given an opportunity to do so twice.

It's not jealousy, he thinks stubbornly. _It's not_. Or, it's not the primary motivator for him at least. The thing is... well, Newton isn't a complete idiot. He must know Ericka will hurt him, perhaps compound the damage she left in her wake the first time if he gives her the opportunity. Newton is not stupid. _But his heart can be_. It's taken Hermann a little while to see it, but the younger boy is only sometimes, even rarely, as confident as he likes to present himself to others, instead seeming to operate on a kind of ' _fake it 'till you make it_ ' philosophy. Newt plunges head first emotionally investing in anyone that gives him the slightest time of day, because for some utterly baffling and infuriating reason, he doesn't actually seem to believe that anyone could be interested in or want him. There's a parallel there, Hermann knows, although he can't help but feel a lot more justified in his own self-doubts and insecurities than his companion has any reason to be. Newton may be... a bit eccentric at times, but he has plenty of other wonderful qualities with which to recommend himself.

Perhaps, Hermann thinks doubtfully, he should have let Newton handle this one on his own, but he couldn't find it in him to stay quiet, idle, or give this woman an inch, a single opening to worm her way in and hurt the younger boy again. _Too late now_ , he thinks, offering Newton's hand another gentle squeeze, before letting go to offer it to shake Ericka's.

"Hermann Gottlieb," he introduces with a plastered on smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. "Nice to meet you, Ericka," he lies, taking a still stalk still Newton's hand in his own again.

"Yeah," Newt manages stupidly, shaking his head and swallowing hard as his mind reels to try and catch up with precisely what the _hell_ is going on here, unable to tear his eyes away from Hermann who's inexplicably decided to pose as his boyfriend. It's ridiculous, entirely inappropriate, because, of course, the two of them aren't actually dating, but Newt is pretty sure he's never wanted to kiss the older boy more than he does right now. Sure, Hermann may not much for holding his own in a physical fight like the one he'd tried to pick with that group of boys a week ago, but this, Newt felt was every bit as meaningful, if not more so, because Hermann isn't just saving him from an ex-girlfriend, but himself as well. _I love you_ , Newt thinks, before he can stop himself, heart hammering in his chest.

"Sie sind Ordnung, mein schatz," Hermann asks softly, glancing sideways and looking at him with concern, and Newt is pretty sure he's stopped breathing at this point. He's dead, or dreaming, or... Ericka doesn't speak any German. He can't really remember if he's ever told Hermann that before, but for a moment, he allows himself to pretend the older boy's words are just for him, rather than to sell the story he's begun crafting for his sake. Newt shakes himself trying to clear his head, before squeezing Hermann's hand where it rests in his own, and offering him a bright and genuine smile. It might well be a mistake, one he will pay for later, but if Hermann hopes to impress upon Ericka that the two of them are a happy couple, well Newt doesn't exactly have to pretend to see or think about his best friend in that context. It is something of a relief, he thinks, to drop the act, if only for a moment. He'll worry about putting those walls and fronts back up again when all of this is over.

"Da, sorry, Liebling," Newt nods. "Just lost in thought," he offers apologetically to the pair of them. He doesn't really care, but he supposes since Ericka has bothered to attempt striking up a conversation with them she must have some purpose for doing so, and he should make at least an attempt to hold up his side of the conversation, though it seems hearing that he and Hermann are together has had the pleasant side effect of disarming her a little. "So, Ericka, how have you been? What have you been up to these days," he asks casually. There's a few more painful minutes of stilted talk between the pair of them, much of it spent with the young woman talking up her own significant other in way Newt is sure would make him feel about 2-inches tall were it not for Hermann standing there at his side supporting him. Finally he's managed to craft a believable excuse for he and Hermann needing to leave, making a mental note that it if today is any barometer, it seems the pair of them would be better studying in his room from now on rather than the library, if he can manage to keep himself from becoming too distracted by having the other boy all to himself.

"Well, I expect I will see you again at the staff holiday party before the break begins, won't I," Ericka smiles sweetly, as the pair of them start to take their leave. Newt frowns a little, he _had_ , until just this moment when it became clear she was likely going to be in attendance, been looking forward to it. Now the thought of an entire evening with Ericka floating around, schmoozing with his fellow coworkers has his stomach tying itself in knots, and he finds himself suddenly very weary, barely managing a nod, as Hermann steers him away.

"You-" Newt begins when they're well out of earshot of anyone else, searching for what exactly it is that he wants to say. "You didn't have to do that- with Ericka back there," he manages finally shaking his head. The unspoken ' _why did you_ ' hanging in the air between them.

"I know," Hermann nods softly, and it's only now, as the older boy finally drops his hand that Newt realizes he's never really stopped holding it. Newt had stopped noticing, Hermann's hand in his feeling so natural, so right it had become a mere extension of himself. He misses the contact once it's gone, if he's being honest, but there's not really much call for it any longer and he can't come up with any natural excuse to chase after those long, delicate, beautiful fingers and hand as they retreat back to Hermann's side. "I just-" Hermann continues with a small sort of shrug, trying to find an explanation he hasn't even been able to provide himself yet, cringing inwardly at himself and his awkwardness.

"I don't know," the older boy confesses truthfully on an heavy sigh, shaking his head. "I don't know anything about relationships, and I'm not very good at thinking on my feet. But she clearly came over just to gloat about this new guy she's with to try and make you feel inadequate and miserable. And you're a good guy- a great guy, Newton," Hermann corrects himself with a small, shy sort of smile, fighting the tinge of pink he feels threatening to flush his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "You don't deserve being made to feel less than just because some people are too short-sighted to see that." Newt is pretty sure that somewhere in the midst of Hermann's mumbled explanation for himself that he's forgotten how to breathe, but he's also not entirely sure that he cares.

"She, um..." Newt stumbles awkwardly, still trying to wrap his head around everything that just happened, and get his tongue working again in the wake of feeling his heart welling up in his throat. "I loved it here, finally being some place that challenged me, but I was so much younger than everyone else. I couldn't even drive yet. And she was the first person to give me the time of day. The first-" _everything_ , Newt thinks, brushing back a wave of sad- and bitterness at the thought. "But it got to be too much. _I_ got to be too much," the younger boy admits, suddenly becoming incredibly interested in adjusting the straps of his backpack in order to avoid meeting Hermann's gaze, not entirely sure he wants to see what he might find there. "She just... neglected to tell me, until I caught her with somebody else. My advisor, in fact," he trails off.

"Newton," Hermann whispers shaking his head. He's half a mind to stomp back to the library and find her again, give this young woman a piece of his mind, but if she would be that caviler about breaking Newton's heart in the first place, not to mention attempt to rub salt in the wound as had clearly been her intent this afternoon, he gets the distinct impression, hearing what he thinks of her and her behavior wouldn't trouble her much. "That's terrible. Es tut mir leid, m-" he clips his speech before the term of endearment can be identified or spills out of him, but it's a near enough thing. Because even for as briefly as they had been engaged in talking to Newton's former lover, gentle touches, fond looks, tender words and names came all too easy- not so much acting a part, but simply taking down all the walls. Forgetting for a time that Newton couldn't actually feel anything similar towards himself. It's remembering again that seems will prove the harder task.

"And I'm sorry, about-"

"Telling her you were my boyfriend," Newt interrupts with an amused smile as Hermann flails searching for the proper words. The older boy nods, feeling a distinct flush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks. "Don't be," Newt laughs, shaking his head. "The look on her face was wonderful. And like you said, she was obviously hoping to catch me alone, rub in how great she's doing now without me. Hey," he interjects, interrupting his own train of thought so abruptly, it causes the other boy to jump a little. "Do you think that maybe you could..."

"Yes, Newton," Hermann encourages hesitantly as Newton seems to lose a little steam, and begins fidgeting a bit.

"Do you think maybe you could keeppretendingtobemyboyfriend," Newt exhales, words blending together a bit in his rush to get them all out in as near to one breath as he can before he loses his nerve to ask. " _Just_ until after the Christmas party," he adds equally quickly, hating the way he sounds so desperate, even as he knows he's already deploying his best puppy dog eyes. Will they even work on someone as stoic as Hermann, he wonders. "It's just that I was really looking forward to going-"

"Until Ericka mentioned she was too," Hermann nods, understanding.

"Yes," Newt confirms, frowning.

"Yes," Hermann replies softly.

"Yes?" Newt repeats, looking momentarily disarmed, equal parts confused and hopeful. "You mean you'll- _Really_?"

"Yes," Hermann repeats, a slight amused smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he nods. Heaven help him, this is probably a mistake, on his part at least, but Newton looks so utterly astonished, delighted that he's agreed to the charade, he can't bring himself to regret it yet. "It's the least I can do. I know I'm not exactly... impressive as a prospective significant other that might inspire anyone to be jealous, but I suppose I just thought..." Newt's jaw clenches for a moment, then drops, staring blankly at the older boy in disbelief. _How can he possibly think that?_

And apparently, if the way Hermann's gaze has suddenly shot back up to his again, Newt actually said that last thought out loud. _Whoops_. "You're kidding right," Newt manages finally shaking his head. "You? _Hermann_ Gottlieb, not- what was it you said- _impressive_ enough? Herms, that might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Sie verhätscheln mich nicht," Hermann growls softly, eyes burning with barely contained anger.

"What because of _this_ ," Newt asks ignoring him, gesturing to the older boy's cane still clutched in his left hand, as Hermann's hand grips it a little tighter. "No way, dude. First of all, I thought we already established Ericka's not necessarily the best judge of character or worth. Secondly," Newt continues undaunted, before the older boy can interrupt him. "Yeah, no, you know what this should have been first- First and most important, anyone that can't see past something that superficial is a fucking idiot, Hermann, end of story."

"It's not just superficial, Newton. There's- There's considerations that have to be made, things I will never be able to do. And I- Es wird nie zu verbessern." _Only become worse_ , Hermann thinks darkly.

"So what," Newt replies shaking his head adamantly. "No, really Herms, so what?"

"So one day, whoever I'm with might well wind up having to take care of me," Hermann replies, as if this argument should be perfectly obvious as to why he shouldn't be anyone's first choice for boyfriend material.

"Yeah, but that's not really the problem, is it? That's what a _good_ relationship is. Caring about and taking care of one another. Some days maybe that pans out 50/50, some days maybe it doesn't. The problem is that you don't think you're enough to make up for any inconvenience your disability might bring to the table. Except I'm here to tell you that you're wrong. And I'm going to keep on telling you as much until you actually believe me, just like you do for me. Because you're my best friend, and because it's true. You are more than worth any concessions that the _right_ partner would _choose_ to make."

Hermann doesn't know what to say to that, knows that Newton is just speaking generally. He's agreed to play a dangerous game of pretend, but that doesn't mean that anything has actually changed between the two of them. And he's not even remotely dissuaded from the idea that he's simply too much work for anyone to consider, but Newton believes it, and even if the younger boy would never look twice at him that way, it means something that his lack of interest doesn't have anything to do with his handicap. Newton knows that it's there, but he doesn't make a fuss about it, doesn't baby him, doesn't even talk about it unless Hermann brings it up first. He hasn't missed it, he simply isn't bothered by it. And that's... not something Hermann ever thought he might find.

 _I love you_ , Hermann thinks, eyes shinning as he meets the gaze of the large green ones staring back at him, waiting patiently for either a counter argument or acquiescence. Instead, emboldened by his earlier, completely incredible, success with physical contact he closes the gap between them and hugs him. Newt feels Hermann's cane where it bumps awkwardly against the back of his leg as the older boy embraces him, and even so he's still not entirely sure it's really happening. Once the initial shock has worn off however, Newt is quick to return the gesture, wrapping his arms around Hermann, and gratefully burrowing his face into the older boy's chest, re-familiarizing him with his warmth, the way he smells... they haven't touched quite like this since they shared a bed over the Thanksgiving weekend, and my god has he missed it. A sudden idea seizes him. Probably a terrible one, but let's be honest, Newt thinks, all the great and fun ones are, _and afterall Hermann did agree to pretend to be his boyfriend until the Christmas party..._

"Guess this means Karla and I get the week off from trying to set you up with anyone, huh _Bärchen_ ," Newt laughs softly, shaking his head.

" _Gott_ , what have I agreed to," Hermann mutters softly, finally pulling back to glare down at Newton, though there's no real distaste or anger in it. _Success_ , Newton thinks gleefully, if he only has the next few days with the older boy he's spent months pining after pretending to be his boyfriend, then he'll be damned if he is going to let the opportunity to do everything he's ever wanted with him- or at least as much as he's able to get away with.  
...

"Newton," Hermann asks warningly, glancing warily at the younger boy where he's sitting across the table from him working on their last lab assignment for their shared class.

They've managed not to talk about it so far, the fact that they won't have any classes with one another come the new year. It doesn't necessarily follow of course that they won't see or spend any time with one another without the excuse of being assigned to work with one another, but with both of them on accelerated tracks to finish their respective degrees the workloads are becoming increasingly more burdensome. They haven't even discussed what each of them are doing for the winter break, but cowardly as it may be Hermann is certainly not going to be the one to bring it up.

The small wrapped box that has mysteriously appeared beside his notebook while he'd been pulling some of their materials from his bag, however, is another story entirely. "Was ist das," he asks suspiciously, jabbing the gold bow on top with his pencil.

"Gott Hermann, it's not a bomb," the younger boy scolds, smacking the pencil away from the bow he'd been examining. "Es ist ein Geschenk," Newt continues with a put-upon look on his face. "For my incredibly paranoid, but otherwise perfect boyfriend," he teases with a wink.

"Newton," Hermann warns, eyeing the box with renewed suspicion. "There is absolutely nobody else here, and very little chance of anyone walking in. I agreed to maintain the fiction of being your boyfriend for your Christmas party-"

"For which I am eternally grateful," Newt interrupts with a bright smile, nodding.

"I can even understand keeping up the illusion, some semblance of increased fondness and physical contact whenever we are amongst our peers, but there's certainly no call for any gifts."

"Well good, because I was only kidding about it being for my boyfriend," Newt replies agreeably. "The truth is I've had this put together for you for ages, and it's been killing me to sit on it. I figure it's December now, close enough for me to finally give it to you," Newt shrugs. "Happy Hanukkah," the younger boy smiles, gesturing to the present where it sits between them.

Hermann frowns a little at the brightly wrapped box now. "Aw, c'mon, no. What's with the long face? You haven't even opened it yet. You'll like it, I promise. Well, I hope anyway..." Newt trails off, fidgeting. "See now you're making me doubt myself, and get all nervous, and you know I start rambling whenever that happens, and we both know how annoying that is, so you have to open it or I'll never shut up."

"There's still two weeks yet until Hanukkah," Hermann says softly.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure what you were doing after the party. I mean, you must miss your family right? Makes sense not to go back for a weekend, but we'll have nearly three weeks off before classes start again."

"I haven't got anything to give you," Hermann admits regretfully, suddenly feeling guilty.

"That's alright. That's why it's a gift, I didn't give it to you because I expected anything back," Newt replies just as brightly, making the older boy feel, if possible, even worse about his lack of foresight. "Hey, don't worry about it. I'll take advantage of any reason for a party or to celebrate, but I'm not really a very good or practicing Jew, so you know, you have a few weeks left before Christmas to come up with something if you really have to return the favor," he offers with a laugh.

"Do I- would you like me to open it now," Hermann asks uncertainly looking up to meet the hopeful and expectant green eyes that watch him. _He will get Newton a present_ , he resolves, regardless of whatever this box happens to hold for him.

"Yes! Da! Did you already forget the bit about it killing me not giving it to you sooner," Newt nods emphatically, in a way that Hermann cannot help but to laugh at.

"Alright," he nods, smiling, bringing the package closer to him and carefully peeling back one of the corners at a time, just to vex Newton further. Earning him a _'Mein Gott, Hermann'_ and soft litany of curses until he's finally removed the paper, and opens the box.

 _It's beautiful, whatever it is_ , Hermann thinks, carefully lifting the small metal device from it's package to set it on the table for closer examination. It's a small sphere that's positively filled with little carefully crafted, but seemingly random holes that seems to hover over a smaller box. Newt is biting his lip as Hermann looks up to ask what exactly it is, but seems for his part delighted that his companion hasn't determined what he has yet.

"Alright, I have to turn out the lights to show you what it does. Don't try to get up and trip over your bag or anything, because taking you to the clinic would totally ruin the moment," he teases, darting off to the other side of the room and flicking off the flicking off the lights. He darts back a moment later, and gently pressing in beside him, presses some kind of switch on the box, and suddenly the room is illuminated by hundreds of tiny lights of faint yellows, blues, reds, and whites. _Stars_ , Hermann thinks staring up at the ceiling and to the walls around them in awe. _Newton's given him the stars._

 _"You made this,"_ Hermann marvels softly. _  
_

"Yeah, I did. The, uh... the other orb in the box is the Southern Hemisphere, in case, you know, if you get bored, or you wanna see something you can't find outside your window," Newt offers up, clearing his throat a little, and Hermann realizes he's not said anything with regard to how he feels about the present. "So," the younger boy hedges cautiously. "What do you think?"

"Newton, it's perfect. It's-" he shakes his head. English won't suit, not something like this. "Hervorragend," he assesses reverently. It's too dark for him to properly see, but the older boy can _feel_ Newton's absolutely delighted smile. "Danke," Hermann smiles back. "- _Liebling_ ," he adds voice barely a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _geht es dir gut?_ (Are you alright?)  
>  _Es wird gut sein_ (It's going to be alright)  
>  _Ich bin hier_ (I am here)  
>  _Sue sind Ordnung, mein shatz?_ (Are you alright, my treasure?)  
>  _Leibling_ (Darling/sweetheart)  
>  _es tut mir leid_ (I am sorry)  
>  _Sie verhätscheln mich nicht_ (Do not coddle me)  
>  _Es wird nie zu verbessern_ (It will never improve)  
>  _Bärchen_ (term of endearment meaning "little bear")  
>  _Was ist das?_ (What is this)  
>  _Es ist ein Geschenk_ (It's a gift)  
>  _Hervorragend_ (magnificent/splendid)  
>  _Danke_ (Thank you)


	14. Equilibrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

Hermann watches the small dots of light where they shine, some even flickering slightly on his ceiling. They're stunning, and he's confirmed since spending some time admiring them- incredibly accurate-not that he had any doubts. It touches, stirs something in his belly, though, to think that while Newton is certainly no slouch in his work or attention to details, astronomy is neither one of his fields or a special interest. He did this just for him. Hermann has to find a present for Newton that's equally as special, as meaningful as the one the younger boy has given him. Hermann is at a loss, however, for what such a gift might look like. The older boy has never had much occasion to give very many gifts, and certainly none that ever felt so important to get right as this one does. The older boy sighs, turning over to stare at the opposite wall, idly identifying various constellations as he tries to unravel the puzzle that is his best friend. What might Newton want for Christmas, he wonders frustratedly.  
  
It's probably just his pride putting up a fight, but it feels like cheating somehow as the days seem to be quickly winding down to their Winter break, and he is forced to concede defeat and look to others for suggestions. He might have known that Karla would suggest snogging him and asking him out, he thinks with a sigh as he hangs up with his older sister, though he's fairly sure the conversation and watching him blush as he had might well be the best gift he has ever given her. It's decidedly more awkward, not knowing him nearly so well, but it would be foolish to pretend Hermann isn't still at a loss for what to get Newton, so he finds himself stealing Illia Geiszler's number from his friend's phone. Hermann has always had some difficulty with talking to others over the phone- well, talking in general if he's being honest. Few people seem to say what it is they actually mean. He's never sure whether he prefers having visual cues, or if it's simply another exhausting variable to try and work out. He thinks, though, that Illia sounds pleased when he manages to explain why he's reached out to him.  
  
Newton is blessedly eclectic in his interests, and attention span, the younger boy's uncle offers sympathetically. There are a few things that Newton might like Hermann could probably find and get for him easily enough, however, what Newton would probably appreciate more is something less tangible. An experience, a good memory to draw on whenever he likes or needs, spending time together doing something fun or novel. It's a good thought, a great one even, and as soon as Illia says as much, the older boy can hardly believe he didn't think of this before. Struck with an uncharacteristically impulsive idea, Hermann asks a few more questions and offering his profuse thanks before hanging up and calling his sister back.  
  
...  
  
Newt knows all too well he is being "lächerlich," he scolds himself aloud, shaking his head at his reflection in the mirror. He's looked forward to the Christmas party every year since he was first invited. True, he's still never quite managed to shake the feeling of having snuck in there somehow, rather than being an invited guest and fellow staff member, but there is always sure to be plenty of great food, good stories, and at least one member of the staff who drinks just a little too much and supplies them all with another humorous story for the next year's party. He's letting it get to him. Ericka being there, the uncertainty of how often he's going to see Hermann after all of this, of how he's going to go back to simply being his friend after... mostly the latter two if he's being honest with himself. The revelation that had come to him in the library when the older boy had been lying and defending him with his ex, of just how much he’s come to care for him, has shaken him.  
  
It’s not the first time Newt’s been in love, of course. Or some pretty heavy crushes, at the very least. Truthfully, Newt has always found the business of falling came to him rather easily. He’s good at impulsive, never been very good at half-measures or holding back any part of himself. There’s something distinctly different about the way things are with Hermann though. He’s used to falling hard, falling fast for someone, but the rush and that intensity never really lasts long. Eventually, he gets to know the other person better until he’s forced to confront the fact he’s loved an idea of them they can’t or won’t ever be. Not that he’s always been good about splitting things off at that point. _Better to be wanted for murder, than nothing at all_ , and all that. He’s far better at lying to himself than he generally is at being alone. But this thing with Hermann... It’s not just some sort of desperate desire not to be alone or single. Newt _knows_ the older boy and only loves him more for it, thrills in every new piece of him Hermann shares with him. Hermann isn’t perhaps what most would consider conventionally attractive, but Newt thinks he’s only become more handsome in the time he’s spent with him, coaxing those rare smiles, even laughs from him.  
  
Hermann doesn’t deserve it being the wonderful companion he’s become to him, going along with this stupid charade of pretending to be his boyfriend, but Newt knows he’s been colder, sharper with him these last few days. He can’t seem to help it; doing his best to push him away before he loses him. Hermann,` though, has been nothing but unfailingly patient and kind.  
  
**[Enspannen, Newton. ]**  
  
Newt laughs, shaking his head as he reads the incredibly timely text message from the other boy. Is he really so predictable? Perhaps it is simply that Hermann knows him that well, that doesn’t seem so bad, in fact, it’s a rather comforting thought, Newt thinks with a small smile.  
  
**[ You really should keep out of my head. It’s not terribly organized, or very safe in there. ]** Newt writes back jokingly.  
  
**[ I’ll manage. :) ]**  
  
Newt’s not sure which soothes him more, that Hermann has entirely accepted how neuro-divergent he is, or the fact that he’s managed not only to get Hermann Gottlieb to text but to use emoticons, though he suspects he may well be the only recipient of them.  
  
**[Danke ]** Newt replies.  
  
**[Natürlich, mein Freund. I should be there in 10. ]**  
  
**[ Sounds good ]**  
  
Newt does his utmost to shove down his lingering doubts and anxiety. Afterall Stephanie promised to bring those mouthwatering cookies again this year, so it won’t do to lose his appetite. More importantly, though, this is it, whether he and Hermann continue to spend as much time together in the next semester or not at the end of the night the great game of pretend they’ve been playing with one another and on those around them will finally be up. However terrifying the prospect of a future with so many uncertainties is, Newt will fight like hell to make the most of and enjoy the last few hours afforded to him.  
  
“Right,” Newt mutterers to himself, drawing in a deep breath. “You can do this. Just another  year, another Christmas party.” _With Hermann. Pretending to be your boyfriend_ , his brain supplies less than helpfully. “Shut up.”  
  
“This is for you,” Hermann says the moment the door swings open on his third knock, thrusting an envelope into Newton’s chest with an uncharacteristic nervousness, before internally kicking himself for completely abandoning the script he’d rehearsed on the way over.  
  
“Umm, thanks,” Newt replies uncertainly, taking the envelope and studying it curiously.  
  
“It’s your Christmas present,” Hermann explains, blushing a little, only managing to maintain eye-contact through sheer force of will. “But,” he adds quickly, halting the other’s progress as he begins to work at one of the corners. “I’d prefer you open it after the party. If that’s alright.”  
  
“Oh. Sure,” Newt nods, smoothing the corner he’s torn before gently tucking it gingerly into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. “Thanks, Herms,” he smiles. “I really did mean it, though, you didn’t have to get anything for me.”  
  
“Newton?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Do shut up,” Hermann smiles shaking his head and earning him a laugh from the younger boy. “Honestly, what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t get you anything, particularly when you made and gave me such an incredible gift.”  
  
“Ha, not a very good one, I suppose,” Newt admits, nervously running one hand over the back of his neck to try and wipe away the blush he feels coming on there. “I- I hoped you’d like it, but-”  
  
“I love it. It was perfect, Newt,” Hermann assures him warmly. Newt finally lets his hand drop, because _yeah, there’s no way that blush is going anywhere anytime soon now_. “So, shall we,” the older boy asks, clearing his throat softly, before offering an arm.  
  
“Yes,” Newt smiles, nodding linking his arm in Hermann’s.  
  
Introductions aren’t really necessary with most of the faculty, even those that have never had him in a class seem to know who Hermann is between his prestigious surname and reputation for being such a bright student, but Newt can’t help but to enjoy showing him off and relishing their surprise whenever he offers up Hermann is his boyfriend. Later perhaps, when he’s hit a low, it might get to him- their surprise- _because what? Why couldn’t he have someone like Hermann?_ At the moment, however, Newt is too goddamned happy to care. Hermann’s been at his side, hand often in his, and sharing in whispered jokes and idle speculation about which of the various Christmas sweaters in attendance are in fact intentionally ugly and which are merely unfortunate gifts. They’ve been there nearly an hour, in fact, without any sign of Ericka at all. The younger boy is just beginning to think that maybe he might be lucky enough she won’t actually be able to make it when Hermann gives his hand a gentle squeeze of warning, tipping his head across the room to a familiar redhead filling a glass by the punchbowl. But no matter, Newt thinks steeling himself and squeezing back to acknowledge he’s seen her, he’s not about to let her spoil his evening and good mood.  
  
“Just remember to breathe, Newton,” Hermann whispers softly as she makes her way over to the pair of them.  
  
“Newt,” she greets delightedly. “Oh, and Herbert, was it,” she asks with something of a sneer just hinted at at the corners of her mouth.  
  
“Hermann,” the older boy corrects with every air of politeness and patience before Newt can get too riled up by her obvious attempt to get under his skin.  
  
“Ah, that’s right. Sorry about that.”  
  
“No harm done,” Hermann shrugs.  
  
“No I suppose not, because afterall it’s not as if there’s anything going on between you, is there,” she continues, eyes narrowing as she flashes the pair a simpering smile.  
  
“I beg your pardon,” the older boy asks, as Newton’s hand squeezes uncomfortably, probably unconsciously tight around his own, the other balling into a fist.  
  
“Excuse me,” Newt demands.  
  
“I get it, you were jealous. So you thought you’d make up this little story about moving on, maybe me ruining you for all other women? It’s sweet but unnecessary. Your lab partners in Bio. Holding hands like it’s junior prom isn’t about to convince anyone you’re partners of any other sort. Everyone knows the way you two bicker constantly over everything under the sun.”  
  
“Oh, do they-” Newt begins, taking a step forward, glaring at her.  
  
“Do they know you’re sleeping with the Head of the Philosophy Department _and_ his _married_ assistant,” Hermann asks a little more loudly than necessary, drawing the gaze of several other nearby and passing party-goers. Newt would swear that Hermann pulled that out of his ass somehow were it not for the way that Ericka’s smile slides right off her face, cheeks blanching a little at the accusation. Holy shit, he thinks, staring between the two of them in astonishment as Ericka glares at the taller boy.  
  
“I can’t begin to imagine where you heard such a slanderous little rumor,” she replies with a sniff.  
  
“Oh I didn’t just _hear_ it,” Hermann replies in a soft whisper for only the pair of them to hear. Newt waits to hear what exactly the older boy knows, and clearly so does Ericka, but he says nothing more, simply smiles, nodding, offering a “My mistake,” louder for the advantage of any curious eavesdroppers. “I seem to be out of punch,” he remarks idly. “Shall we go check out what sorts of desserts are on offer,” he asks the younger boy beside him.  
  
“Huh? Oh, yeah, let’s,” Newt manages a bit stupidly, following alongside him. He manages to wait until the two of them have filled their plates with samplings of various dishes and desserts, and found a small quiet alcove in a corner to sit before he can’t stand it anymore. “Not that I’m not grateful or anything, but what the fuck was that back there?”  
  
“Insurance,” Hermann shrugs unconcernedly, with the hint of a small satisfied smile. “I wasn’t 100% sure until I saw her face actually, but the assistant’s having marital troubles, and she certainly seemed... cozy with him when I happened to see her on my way back from class the other day. Even if it wasn’t true, she’s right about one thing, it is a slanderous little rumor,” the older boy replies, selecting and taking a bite out of one of the small thumbprint cookies on his plate.  
  
“She was right about more than just that, though,” Newt says softly, frowning a little. “We’re not together. Not really. Maybe she was right about the rest. Maybe I...” He shakes his head.  “It was- kind of you to agree to it, but I shouldn’t have asked you to lie for me. I shouldn’t have made you come to this,” the younger boy says firmly, setting aside his plate with a rueful half-smile. Newt forces himself to stand and walk away while he still has the strength of will to do so, leaving Hermann to scramble to set aside his plate and grab his cane before he can come after him.  
  
“Newton, wait,” Hermann calls after him, and Newt wants to keep going, wants to run away, or even just the floor to swallow him up whole, for a moment he does, but then... “Bitte Schatz,” the older boy calls again, “Don’t go," and Newt freezes, turning to stare at him because he’s never experienced auditory hallucinations before, but he cannot possibly have heard him right. Hermann for his part continues advancing until he’s stopped just in front of him, taking one of his hands in his free one as if he might be afraid the other will try to leave again otherwise.  
  
“If you’ll recall, I lied for you first completely without your request or consent,” Hermann says softly, large and shining brown eyes meeting confused green ones. “And you could never make me do anything that I didn’t want to,” he smiles warmly, shaking his head. “I am here for _you_ , and because I want to be. We were having a good time I thought, don’t let her ruin that.” Newt considers for a moment, gaze dropping to where Hermann’s hand is again holding his, warm, strong and steady, and slowly draws a deep breath and nods.  
  
“Okay,” Newt exhales with a small smile. “Uh, Herms,” he asks suddenly blushing a little. “Why is everybody staring at us like that,” the younger boy asks nervously, suddenly aware of all the attention they’ve attracted, and no longer quite so sure about staying anymore, perhaps the two of them should just...  
  
“Kiss,” Somebody shouts, as several others echo the directive, pointing above their heads.  
  
“Mistletoe,” Hermann whispers looking up to the small decoration above their heads the two of them have failed to notice.  
  
“Scheiße,” Newt mutters, heart suddenly pounding hard against his ribcage. He should, Newt thinks, probably be absolutely thrilled. He may, in fact, have indulged in the occasional daydream or fantasy about something like this happening, but the reality is a lot more... terrifying. “Herms, we don’t have to-” he stammers, looking down at his shoes where they nervously scuff against the floor.  
  
“Newt,” Hermann interrupts patiently, waiting the painfully long seconds it takes for the younger boy to finally find the courage to pull his gaze back up to meet his own.  
  
“Ye-”  
  
“Do shut up,” the older boy smiles softly. Long thin fingers and a warm palm drift up to cup Newt's cheek as Hermann leans in and slowly closes the last few inches between them, finally pressing his lips to Newton’s. _It seems_ , Hermann thinks fleetingly, his hand shifting a little slipping into the other boy's hair, gently tugging and holding him close as Newt lets out a surprised and muffled squeak before his own arms are wrapping around Hermann, eagerly returning the gesture, _Karla's earlier suggestion of a possible gift might not have been so terrible or ridiculous afterall._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _lächerlich_ (ridiculous)  
>  _Enspannen_ (relax)  
>  _Danke_ (thank you)  
>  _Natürlich, mein Freund._ (Of course, my friend)  
>  _Bitte, Schatz_ (Please, Treasure)  
>  _Scheiße_ (Shit/Crap)


	15. Double Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

They don't say anything as they make their way together back over to the corner where they'd been sitting and their neglected plates of food. The younger boy for his part, not entirely sure what to say, still reeling because _verdammte hölle, Hermann Gottlieb just kissed him! In front of about half of the faculty and their significant others!_ Hermann silent because thrilling as the kiss had been, the older boy is panicking that he may just have ruined everything. _Newton did kiss him back, though_ , he reminds himself, gripping his cane a little tighter than is really necessary in his nervousness.

"So," Newt begins after a moment or two, finally breaking the silence that's fallen between them, a little relieved to see Hermann's hand gripping a bouncing knee as he anxiously clears his throat.  _Maybe he's not the only one that's a little nervous_. Chocolate eyes slowly glance up from under lashes that _really_ ought to be illegal, the younger boy thinks, and Newt swears his tongue's swelled up because he's relatively certain he's choking on it.  _Gott_ , _but he's beautiful._ "I know I haven't opened it yet, but if that envelope's got some kind of coupon for a kiss in it... _best Christmas present ever_ ," he chuckles, deflecting to humor as he often does even as one hand rubs the back of his neck, waiting to see how the other boy will respond.

Hermann laughs, shaking his head. It can't possibly be true. Hermann doesn't know the first thing about kissing anyone, for one thing, the older boy knows at one point towards the end of it he knocked their teeth together. Whatever her-possibly many- shortcomings, he seriously doubts Ericka would have made that or any of his other mistakes. He blushes a little and looks away, suddenly intently focused on his dwindling plate of desserts. It seems something of a waste, eating but not really tasting the cookie he selects next, but it's as good an excuse as any to give him a moment to collect himself, and at least try to think about how to respond.

"I'm afraid I didn't have the forethought to think of a coupon for kisses," Hermann replies softly, shaking his head, more than a little relieved for the way Newt is doing his best to make light of the situation to ease any awkwardness or tension that the kiss may have brought up between them. "I- I hope you'll like it, though. You- can open it now if you'd like," the older boy shrugs, doing his best to quell the way his stomach seems to be tying itself in knots.

"Yeah? I'm sure I will," Newt assures him, plucking the envelope from his pocket. "Anyway," he smiles casually. "Gives you an idea for the next year," he jokes playfully bumping the other boy's shoulder with his own and swallowing down the lump in his throat.

"Or maybe your birthday," Hermann supplies with a small hint of a smile.

"There you go," Newt nods, tearing into the envelope with special care, brow furrowing as he examines the contents, before looking to his companion, searching his face for answers to the questions he seems to have lost the ability to ask. "Herms, what..."

"You gave me a place to go for Thanksgiving," the older boy offers up a bit shyly. "I do, of course, realize you've got family and not nearly so far away, but... I thought perhaps, maybe you might like to meet mine? Karla and Bastien at least. Father and Dieterich tend to ignore the holidays and the rest of us as much as they can most of the time... But-"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," Hermann replies, drawing out the single syllable word, voice wavering a little as he bites his lip. He had been at least. "Newton, if you don't want to, it's fine really I won't be-"

"Hermann," Newt interrupts shaking his head.

"Yes, Newton?"

"Do shut up," Newt beams.

"That's my line," Hermann replies, not entirely certain whether to smile or frown, unsure of what exactly that response might mean in regards to the plane ticket Newt's still holding between his fingers.

"I'm borrowing it," the younger boy shrugs with a grin. "Though, in the future, you might consider a different line if you're angling to kiss someone."

"Tsk. Whatever happened to ' _best Christmas present ever'_ ," Hermann chuckles softly. "Seems like it worked well enough for you."

"Well I'm easy," Newt jokes, but Hermann shakes his head.

"You're really not," the older boy argues. "But you are worth the effort involved."

"See now a line like _that_ ," Newt says, doing his best not to sound as breathless as he feels meeting those seemingly fathomless brown eyes that stare back at him once more.

"It's not just a line, Newton," Hermann replies shaking his head.

"Yeah," Newt swallows nodding. "I know. Thanks, Herms," the younger boy returns, blushing a little. There's a moment or two of silence between them that's just a little less comfortable than usual, a waiting game to see who might look away first before Hermann clears his throat anxiously.

"So... Not to pressure you, if you need some time to decide or plan the logistics, but your gift," the older boy prompts with a nod to where the envelope sits in Newt's lap.

"Scheiße! I'm sorry,"Newt exclaims, shaking himself a little. " I never actually answered, did I?" Hermann shakes his head, but with an entirely fond smile that allows Newt to breathe a little easier. With anyone else, the older boy is sure, he would have long ago lost his patience, eager as he may be to finally unravel the way his stomach seems to have knotted, however, he can't find it within himself to find Newton anything but endearing. "Yes, Hermann, I would love to go with you and meet your siblings. But are you sure? I mean, this had to be expensive. How did you even..."

"Positive," Hermann nods and does his best not to betray the relief and equal parts excitement coursing through him now Newt has finally confirmed that he appreciates and would like to take him up on the Christmas present the older boy has put together for him. "And..." he begins, hesitating for a moment, before forcing himself to plow onwards. "Would you prefer that I introduce you as my friend, or my boyfriend?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought- I mean, well..."

Newt's brain is short-circuiting. All night he's been preparing to distance himself again, re-erect those walls he's spent months now building and torn down in the space of a few minutes the moment the opportunity presented itself, because whatever they have told the rest of the people in the room, Ericka's right, he and Hermann aren't like that with each other. Not to say that she has it all figured out. There's so much more to them than their regular benign bickering and debates as to whose fields of study are better. Those are, well, ultimately meaningless. Because the truth of the matter is they've already figured it out. There're certain things they're never going to see eye to eye on- coffee or tea, rock or jazz, mornings or evenings... but at the end of the day they agree on most of the more important things, and that they are important to one another. _Just not romantically_ , Newt reminds himself. The nicknames, the holding hands, and other physical contact, _Gott that kiss_ , it's been wonderful, but Newt's known since it started it was going to come to an end. He could never have expected that Hermann might invite him to Germany with him for part of their break.

"I definitely owe you one for helping me out with Ericka, even if she did figure it out eventually. We can keep pretending to be boyfriends if you want, keep your sister off your back about setting you up, right?"

" _Right_ ," Hermann says slowly, forcing himself to nod. “Yes, Karla’s incessant,” he agrees.  
  
“Of course. No, problem, dude,” Newt nods, smiling. “Least I can do.”  
  
_It was a foolish thought in the first place_ , the older boy thinks, internally scolding himself. Could only have been the product of not noticing the punch was spiked, or letting everyone’s excessive holiday cheer get to him. They aren’t sharing any classes together next semester, and they’re both working hard on PhDs. Who knows how often they’ll see one another as friends, let alone... He’s doing his best to get into the Jaeger Academy after he graduates, for God’s sake. He has no business whatsoever hoping for any other response than the one that Newton has given him. He can continue to pretend, maintain the illusion for another week or so, then he needs to let it go. _It’s better this way_ , the older boy tells himself. Somehow, though, he can’t entirely convince himself of it.

...

“Don’t you just love that,” Newt chuckles as they watch the stewardess leave. “The way they give you that little look before they close the curtain between first class and coach? I still can’t believe you gave that up just so you could drag me along with you,” the younger boy continues, shaking his head. “I mean, did you see what their in-flight meals looked like?” Hermann smiles softly, shaking his head.  
  
“I sincerely hope I’m not _dragging_ you anywhere, Newton,” the older boy replies quietly as he picks at a particularly limp and sad looking leaf of lettuce in the salad he’s just had delivered to him. Newt’s sandwich, while hardly 5 star-worthy at least looks a little more filling than his own meager lunch. His stomach growls most unhelpfully, and Newt, perhaps taking pity on him, wordlessly rips the sandwich in half placing half atop the other boy’s plate.  
  
“You wouldn’t have to,” Newt replies, shaking his head once more. “But you _could_ ,” he adds with a smile that somehow manages to make Hermann’s stomach flop even more than the turbulence they had hit a while back had done. It’s a petulant thought, one he will berate himself for later, but it simply isn’t fair how easily Newton seems to be able to undo him with little more than a few words or even a look.  
  
“Well, then I suppose I’ll count myself lucky that it wasn’t necessary this time. Though I think you’re overestimating my physical capabilities,” he points out with a meaningful glance to the cane that rests beside him between his armrest and the window. Newt huffs a laugh.  
  
“You’d find a way. Some kind of magical feat of your precious maths,” the younger boy teases, and the simple, genuine and ringing laughter this stupid joke rings from the older boy has Newt’s heart soaring. “Besides you forget I’ve seen a couple of your- what are they called exactly- matches? Meets? Anyway, I’ve seen you with the rowing team. You’re no slouch,” he points out, doing his utmost not to think too much about the amount of time he’s spent thinking about the muscled arms and chest that might be hidden beneath the sweaters Hermann is so fond of wearing, and what they might feel like wrapped around him.  
  
Hermann mumbles something not entirely audible enough to be coherent, stiffening uncomfortably. “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to continue that particularly endeavor,” the older boy admits, suddenly intently interested in the absolutely gray and uninteresting sky outside the window.  
  
“Wha-” Newt begins stupidly, before taking in the way Hermann’s hand has tightened a little over the knee of his left leg. “Herms,” he begins softly, stopping himself before he sounds like he’s pitying him too much, knowing how loathesome the very idea is to the other boy. “I’m sorry Hermann, it seemed like you really enjoyed that.” Hermann huffs a little, before slowly turning back to meet his gaze once more, eyes drifting momentarily to where Newton has allowed his hand to rest atop his own.  
  
“Yes, well... it was- good, while I- while it lasted. I don’t suppose I need my body to be capable of any great feats of athleticism in order to pursue my work or be of scientific value. Hawking seems to be doing just fine,” the older boy grumbles a little bitterly.  
  
“Will it get that bad,” Newt ventures softly, voice laced with concern he can’t possibly hope to weed out or conceal.  
  
“No,” Hermann chuckles shaking his head. “I have no reason to believe so,” he admits. “Forgive me, I was simply feeling sorry for myself. I appreciate you listening to my wallowing, but no. Others have it far worse I am sure.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still suck, dude,” Newt replies shaking his head, indulging in allowing himself to squeeze Hermann’s hand for a moment. “Does your family know?”  
  
“Not the specifics,” Hermann admits. “They’re aware of my medical history of course, the prognosis has always been... poor, but nobody could be certain of any sort of timeline. And I- I haven’t quite figured out how to tell them yet. Karla is something of a mother hen about it,” he assesses, though with a fond smile.  
  
“My father disapproved,” the older boy continues. Newt bites back a snarky comment that he’s little faith that Lars Gottlieb, contemptible human being he’s already decided he is, has ever approved of anything Hermann has done, with great difficulty and allows the older boy to continue. “Of pushing myself physically. Didn’t see any point in it. I suppose, I wanted to do something while I still could. Football seemed... inadvisable,” Hermann continues softly, smirking a little, and Newt laughs in spite of himself, shaking his head. “I don’t suppose anyone can be entirely certain, but the doctor seemed to think it’s the only reason my condition didn’t start deteriorating sooner.” Hermann’s not generally one to gloat, but Newt can’t help but to enjoy the subtle hints of pride on the other boy’s face. _Hermann: 1, Lars: 0_ , the younger boy thinks pleased.  
  
“So no more rowing,” Newt summarizes, trailing off, unspokenly nudging, waiting for Hermann to expand on what exactly he’s been told to expect going forward.  
  
“No more rowing,” Hermann sighs heavily, momentarily incredibly tempted to flip their hands over, to better hold Newton’s in his own, squeeze it, raise the armrest between them and simply slide into him, his warmth, his strength... Newton- Newt- would let him, he’s little doubt, but it’s a childish and entirely foolish thought, he thinks, stopping himself. Images and feelings about the way they had shared a bed while visiting Newton’s family comes unbidden to the forefront of his mind, as vivid in memory as if they happened only moments ago rather than weeks. Hermann wonders if they will always be, always torment him so, once the two of them are seeing less of each other next semester, or in the time both seem to prefer not to think about that will follow after. “Less days without the cane,” Hermann supplies regretfully in answer to the younger boy’s unvoiced question. “More trial and error to find a new and better drug regimen. Possibly some days with a lot more restricted mobility.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Newt repeats, feeling stupid, helpless.  
  
“Not your fault,” Hermann replies stiffly, shaking his head.  
  
“I know, but-” the younger boy stumbles. “I’m sorry,” he repeats for lack of anything better. “Look, I won’t bug you about it twice I promise. You can just glare at me and tell me to bugger off, but I’d be a terrible friend if I didn’t at least ask: are you sure you’re okay, with your seat and everything? Karla originally helped pay to get you in first class for the extra legroom, and now you’re back here...”  
  
“I’m alright,” the older boy replies, shaking his head, forcing himself to remember the well-meaning intention behind Newton’s query rather than snapping at him as he would with anyone else. “Thank you, Newt.”  
  
“So do you know how to play chess?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Well,” Newt shrugs. “I mean, since we need to find you a new, maybe less physical hobby,” the younger boy offers up.  
  
“Because I’m not enough of an ‘ _old man_ ’ cliche, I presume,” Hermann smiles softly in amusement.  
  
“Hey, you wear it well.” Hermann snorts a little.  
  
“While I’m not entirely sure whether or not I believe you," the older boy replies dryly, shooting him an entirely skeptical sideways glance. "I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment.”  
  
“It was meant to be,” Newt nods, with a small smile. “Seriously, you’re the only guy I know our age that can rock those grandpa sweaters,” the younger boy teases, earning him a laugh and playful shoulder shove, but the frown etched into those deep brown eyes and the sides of Hermann’s mouth have disappeared, been replaced with far more pleasing crow's feet, and the softest hints of a smile that persist even when the older boy falls asleep tipping his head over onto the other boy's shoulder an hour later, so Newt can’t actually bring himself to regret it.

“It’d be an honor, you know,” Newt whispers softly into the crown of the sleeping boy’s head as he gently repositions himself to more comfortably cradle Hermann’s sleeping form without waking him. Fingers hover for just a moment above his brow, before gently sweeping a few errant strands of hair back into their proper place, making room for him to press a fleeting and infinitely soft kiss to his cool forehead. “-not a burden; to be the one at your side, to help take care of you. I’d even learn how to be patient enough to do those lame Sudoku puzzles you like with you,” he continues softly. “Well, I’d try anyway,” he admits with a small smile as the younger boy slips an earbud into his ear, and settles against Hermann to get some rest himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _verdammte hölle_ (Fucking hell)  
>  _Scheiße_ (crap/shit)


	16. Extraneous Variables

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vraFangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

_Oh_ gott _, can I do this? I can’t do this_ , Newt thinks as the seatbelt sign is finally turned off and people slowly begin getting up to gather their things and exit the plane. _Pretend to be Hermann’s boyfriend for a week with his older sister and younger brother? He’s a terrible liar. Why did he think this was going to be a good idea?_ Newt’s chest and throat feel tight, his hands sweaty as he reaches down and un-clips his belt. He’s pretty sure he can feel what remains of the half of his earlier sandwich churning uncomfortably in his stomach. Hermann is still dozing softly against his shoulder, though, and Newt despite his anxiousness is loathed to wake him just yet. There is plenty of time yet, other people in a far greater rush, and Hermann will probably appreciate having more space and no one impatient or waiting behind him when they leave. So the younger boy takes the opportunity to force himself to concentrate on long, slow, deep breaths. _Good.Das ist besser_ , he thinks, smiling a little, proud of himself. He _can_ do this. He _will_. Because Hermann asked him to. And because this might be the closest he’ll ever get to what he really wants, so dangerous and self-destructive as it might eventually prove to be, Newt’s going to enjoy the hell out of it when and where he can while it lasts.  
  
“Newton, I- I should have said before," Hermann says suddenly, looking rather apologetic, stopping mid-stride as the thought occurs to him and bringing the younger boy to a halt where he walks beside him. “Karla and Bastien- they don’t speak much English,” Hermann admits as they make their way from the terminal down to the carousel that will be spitting out their luggage.  
  
“That’s alright. No worries, man,” Newt replies immediately, shaking his head. “I mean, there might be some nuances between the Berlin-German my Dad, uncle and I use, but you’ve always seemed to understand me well enough, right?”  
  
“Yes,” Hermann nods, relaxing a little.  
  
“Nervous or sore,” Newt asks softly, nodding to the incredibly tight grip the older boy has on his cane.  
  
“Not sore,” Hermann offers shaking his head, though there’s just a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, impressed as ever by the younger boy’s observational skills and a little touched by his concern. “Just a bit stiff,” he assesses. A little too long sitting in a cramped space, a little walking around and he should be fine.  
  
“Nervous,” Newt repeats quietly. Hermann’s mouth twists a little. Nerves, or any emotion really, are not the sort of thing that Hermann Gottlieb cops to just anybody, anyone for that matter. Newton, however, as the older boy is well aware by now, is hardly just anyone. Not for him. He’s not worried about acting the part of being enamored with the younger boy he’s brought home with him for his siblings, but what will become of him, of his heart once the charade is at an end.  
  
“Are you,” Hermann asks, turning the question back around on Newton instead.  
  
“Oh, absolutely,” Newt nods with a chuckle, shaking his head. “But I wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to get some blackmail material on you. Maybe see some baby pictures,” the younger boy teases with an exaggerated wink. Hermann rolls his eyes, both of them resuming their trek towards baggage claim.

“Sie sind wichtig für Sie,” Newt replies softly, more seriously as they stop to wait and look for their bags. “Und du bist mir wichtig.” Hermann feels an unbidden flush creeping up the back of his neck and not for the first time marvels at the way Newt sometimes manages to say so much with so little, speak so matter-a-factly and seem to shake the very foundations of his world and beliefs he’s held to be truths.  
  
“Danke,” Hermann exhales softly.  
  
“Natürlich, Hermann,” Newt replies warmly, carefully- mindful just in case the older boy is still stiff or perhaps not being entirely forthcoming about being sore- allowing his head to tip over onto his shoulder, mirroring the way the other boy had slept on the flight over, pleased when the other boy doesn’t stiffen up, but instead allows an arm to wrap gently around his waist. This- Hermann thinks a little surprised by the revelation- _the two of them together like this_ \- feels comfortable, safe, right... It feels as much like home as any of the rest of it, he smiles.  
  
“Wow,” the young boy who Newt assumes must be Bastien says, as Newt and Hermann clear the customs gate and approach those meeting passengers, letting the large sign that helpfully reads ‘Future Nobel winners’ fall to his side. “Hermann did _not_ do you justice.”  
  
“No,” Newt asks a little surprised, brows furrowing as Hermann offers a warning ‘ _Bastien_ ’.  
  
“No, I’m serious, what the hell bro,” Bastien continues, shaking his head, one hand gesturing to the shorter boy beside his brother. “At no point in any of your letters or calls did you mention that your fellow nerd looked this cool.”  
  
“Heh, Thanks,” Newt chuckles, clearing his throat a bit nervously behind his free hand and fighting the urge to blush all the way to the tips of his ears.  
  
“Reign it in,” Hermann growls under his breath, gripping his cane ever so slightly tighter and scowling a little at his younger brother. It is ridiculous, of course, Hermann reminds himself. Despite agreeing to maintain the fiction of dating- mostly because Hermann hadn’t exactly known what to say when the younger boy completely missed the point of his query about making things more... real- they are _not_ in fact together. That his younger, infinitely more able-bodied and better-looking brother is flirting with Newton should not be getting under his skin this much, but it absolutely very much is.  
  
“Spielverderber,” Bastien laughs airily, shaking his head. “Give me your bag, Hermie dear, Karla will never let me hear the end of it if I let you carry it.”  
  
“It has wheels,” Hermann points out, not bothering to correct his use of pet name, still too busy fighting to stamp out the utterly irrational wave of jealousy that’s suddenly overwhelmed him at the prospect of his younger brother flirting with Newton, however playfully it was done.  
  
“And _yet_ , she’d still kill me,” the younger boy smirks, taking the suitcase from Hermann’s other hand.  
  
“So you’re dating now, huh big brother,” Bastien offers conversationally as they make their way from the baggage claim to where Karla is waiting with the car for them. “Thought you didn’t have time for all that ‘nonsense’. Too busy trying to save the world with your maths and all that. Does dad know?” Hermann mutters something under his breath about how crazy he was to think this trip was a good idea that has Newt fighting hard to stifle his laughter. _And this is the brother he likes_ , Newt thinks with amusement. “Ooh, he doesn’t does he," Bastien grins delightedly. “Can I tell him? Please? You know to get him off my back about wasting my potential and all that for a bit,” he asks affecting a particularly put upon, but somehow still rather effective pleading puppy sort of look. Or maybe Newt is just weak to Gottlieb charms... “ _Don’t be ridiculous, Bastien. Architecture? You’re throwing your life away. The only thing anyone has any use for building right now are bunkers and walls. Any idiot could design those_ ,” The younger boy quotes affecting a deeper more stern voice.  
  
“Gott, does your father actually like any of his children,” Newt blurts out before he can stop himself, glancing sideways at Hermann as they continue making their way through the throng of people coming and going. Bastien’s bark of laughter is so loud and abrupt it momentarily stops a few passersby.  
  
“Oh, I like this one Hermann,” he grins. “But to answer your question, Newt, yes of course he does. He adores _‘Mini-Lars’_ to pieces. And maybe Karla or he tolerates her at least since she’s the only girl and takes after mother so much.”  
  
“Father loves all of us,” Karla interrupts with a smile, having jumped out of the car to help Bastien load their bags into the trunk. “He’s just incapable of expressing it in a way any of us are able to interpret.”  
  
“Except Bastien,” Hermann grumbles.  
  
“That’s because they suffer the same kind of emotional constipation,” Karla smiles, carefully slinging one arm over her younger brother’s shoulder in a sort of half hug as she tosses another bag into the trunk. “Es ist schön, dich zu sehen, Liebling,” she greets warmly, kissing his cheek before moving on to the other boy. “And you must be Newt. It is wonderful to meet you at last. Hermann has told us entirely too little about you,” she greets, catching him by surprise with an enthusiastic hug.  
  
“Really,” Newt manages surprised, stomach turning over a little. They’re not actually together, he reminds himself yet again, but they have been spending much of their free-time together for nearly a year now. They’re friends. Hermann invited him to come and meet his family. He’s just being paranoid now. Hermann’s a private person and a rather quiet one too, this doesn’t necessarily mean that he doesn’t like him. _Get it under control, Newt._  
  
“Ah, don’t let her fool you,” Bastien offers in clipped German, interrupting Newt’s anxious train of thought before he can get too carried away by it. “Karla’s just incessantly nosey," the younger boy continues, earning a small glare from his sister. “You’re most of what our brother talks or writes about these days. I wondered how long it would take him to finally do something about it. So you were lab partners first, right? Figures that’s how he’d meet someone. Hermann has always been something of a workaholic.” Hermann looks for a moment like he would like to protest, but seems to decide against it. It’s not entirely untrue, nor is he terribly offended by the idea that he be thought of as a hard-worker, Hermann decides.  
  
“That’s alright. I wouldn’t have your brother any other way,” Newt replies brightly, entirely honest in a way that makes Hermann’s heart clench, then speed up a little for the second time since they’ve stepped off the plane. _Verräterische Sache_ , Hermann thinks. “I can get that way too, I’m afraid,” Newt continues. “Sometimes when I get really involved in something, or I know I’m close to a breakthrough, I just lose all track of time. Won’t even remember to eat until my stomach starts to get loud about it. It’s a lot easier to deal with when your partner’s the same.”  
  
“Ich esse,” Hermann promises quickly, throwing his hands up in mock surrender under his sister’s critical gaze before Karla can start in on him about how skinny he looks, earning a laugh from his traveling companion.  
  
“Well,” Karla nods, although she’s still eyeing her brother and doesn’t appear entirely convinced. “There will be plenty to eat while you’re both with us,” she promises. “But let’s get you home. We’ll save sight-seeing or anything more exciting for another day.”  
  
Hermann is not particularly looking forward to the drive, even if it’s not a terribly long one, and he’s especially reluctant to sit in the front seat as his sister suggests and leave Newton alone in the backseat with his younger brother. Karla, seeming to deduce as much from his hesitation and sideways glance to the younger boys laughs softly shaking her head. “Entspannen Sie sich, Hermann,” she smiles. “He’s just being playful. Bastien isn’t going to steal your boyfriend from you.”  
  
“She’s right Herms,” Newt agrees. “You’d be more comfortable with a little extra room to stretch out after the flight. Besides, you know I love you. Bastien seems like a charming guy and all,” he smiles at the younger boy, “But I kinda have a thing for grumpy, workaholic mathematicians.”  
  
“Mathematicians,” Hermann repeats curiously, is that what it boiled down to? Sure, Newt was probably laying it on a bit thick for the sake of their audience, but could that be why Newt kept him around, for his mind? He supposed there could be worse reasons. It’s not as if he has much of a body to recommend himself.  
  
Hermann does his best to try to ignore the way his heart is suddenly hammering out of control in his chest. _You know I love you_. Is Newton even aware of what he just said? He can’t be. But then, they’re acting. It’s all a lie. If he wasn’t aware that would mean he might actually have meant it, and that’s simply not possible. It’s a joke. Like so many other things, Newt says. Not actually meant to mean anything of any actual importance or weight. So it’s distinctly unfair the way those few words have suddenly struck straight at his core. _Could he_ , the older boy wonders fleetingly. No, of course not, Hermann thinks, internally kicking himself. As a dear friend, perhaps, but nothing more. He’s simply maintaining the fiction that he’d so stupidly agreed to- playing at a relationship for the sake of his elder sister. They’ve only just got off the plane and already Hermann thinks this might just be the saddest, most depressing, and worst break he has ever had. Even more so than those times a few years back when Karla had tried to set him up on dates. This one it seems is destined to end with his heart broken if it’s not there already.  
  
“ _Maybe_... one in particular,” Newt admits with a soft chuckle in answer, completely oblivious to the inner-struggle going on in the other boy.  
  
It’s an impulse, one he’s not entirely sure he should indulge in, because for all that they’ve talked about pretending to be something more with one another than they actually are they haven’t talked about what sort of level of affection Hermann wants to portray or indulge in between them, but Newt decides to go for it- throwing caution to the wind and darting forward to plant a brief, but affectionate kiss on Hermann’s beautiful and sharp cheekbone before the older boy can reply. There is an almost instantaneous rush of pink to the spot as Newt pulls back to meet the other boy’s gaze, desperately searching his eyes to make sure he hasn’t erred. _But gott he’s wanted to do that for ages_. Distantly Newt registers an ‘aww’ from Karla and fake retching noises from Bastien as Hermann clears his throat, seeming to pull himself back together once more with the faintest, barely detectable hint of a smile curling at the corner of his mouth that tells Newt he’s alright.  
  
“Karla’s right you know,” Bastien interjects, hanging out the open window now he’s jumped into the car. “I tease him because Hermann doesn’t come back home to visit or write me nearly often enough, and it’s kind of my job as his little brother, but you're his boyfriend. You can give him a real kiss. I’m a big boy, I can handle it,” he promises with a wink.  
  
This can only end badly, Hermann thinks. Especially considering nothing was ever truly begun between them at all. At least, not so far as Newton is aware of. But... perhaps he should take a page out of the younger boy’s book for once, and do his best to enjoy the moment while it lasts, and the memories once it’s all gone. He takes advantage of the opening when Newton seems a little less sure about anything more than the affection he’s already demonstrated, and steps forward to close the gap between them, his free hand reaching up to thread through Newton’s already tousled devil-may-care hair as his lips claim his in a brief, but undeniably possessive kiss, before pulling away and depositing himself into the front seat with a small grin, watching in the rearview as a stunned Newton blinks rather dazed for a moment before he regains himself and jumps into the opposite backseat so they can head back to Karla’s.  
  
“Brace Sie sich,” Bastien cautions in a soft whisper to Newt as the car pulls away from the airport. “We’re all stuck in close quarters for the next half-hour at least, depending on what the traffic is like.” Newt is just about to ask what exactly he’s meant to be bracing himself for when Karla suddenly interrupts just as he’s opening his mouth.  
  
“So-” she drawls slowly, with all the subtlety of Kaiju. “When did you two become an item? How did it happen?”  
  
“About a month ago,” Hermann replies.  
  
“Hermann actually saved me from my rather crazy and unpleasant ex,” Newt pipes up, deciding it is both easier to remember and to be as convincing as he will need to be if he sticks at least somewhat close to the truth. “Told her that he was my boyfriend to get her to back off, and pretended to be going out with me for a week or so, and then at some point we just sort of said- well, why not?”  
  
“That’s... kind of cute, actually,” Karla admits shaking her head a little. “It’s not exactly the pinnacle of romance or anything, but somehow that seems like it just fits you both.”  
  
“Newton gave me the stars,” Hermann adds softly before he can really think about it, staring out the window to where night is slowly beginning to fall over the city. It’s not really necessary: defending their ability to be anything Karla might see as ‘romantic’, especially when they aren’t really, but the words tumble out completely unbidden anyway. “-Uh, a projector he made himself,” he mumbles when Bastien looks a little bit confused not having heard yet about the gift the way he had gushed about it with Karla during their last chat, earning Newton a fond smile from his older sister in the rear-view mirror.  
  
“And I’d give them to you all over again,” Newt replies sincerely, smiling warmly at the back of Hermann’s head where he sits, because it’s been weeks and the younger boy still remembers, still replays the way Hermann had looked at him, how he’d been lost for words when he’d opened his gift. Newt doesn’t know how he’ll ever find anything to top that, but if Hermann is still a part of his life when the older boy’s birthday next rolls around, he’s certainly determined to try.  
  
“Ugh. Alright point proven, you can be romantic too,” Bastien gripes. “No need to rub it in.”  
  
“Oh hush you,” Karla scolds fondly with a soft smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Das ist besser_ (that's better)  
>  _Sie sind wichtig für Sie_ (they are important to you)  
>  _Und du bist mir wichtig_ (and you're important to me)  
>  _Danke_ (thank you)  
>  _Natürlich_ (of course)  
>  _Spielverderber_ (spoilsport)  
>  _Es ist schön, dich zu sehen, Liebling_ (It's nice to see you, darling)  
>  _Verräterische Sache_ (traitorous thing)  
>  _Ich esse_ (I eat)  
>  _Entspannen Sie sich_ (relax)  
>  _Brace Sie sich_ (brace yourself)


	17. Symmetry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

It’s a bit of an adjustment, talking almost exclusively in German. Not because Newt is incapable, but more because the Geiszler household has taken to speaking to one another in a kind of amalgamation of German and English, and speaking with Hermann is much the same, so the younger boy doesn’t always recognize when he’s slipping back and forth between the two. They are no doubt being kind- Karla and Bastien- not pointing it out when he does so, he is a guest after all, but it’s usually Hermann replying in their first language that prompts him to recognize when he’s accidentally managed to confuse or exclude the other boy’s siblings from the conversation. Newt can’t help but feel a little bit guilty that it takes him the better part the of the rest of their first evening together before he’s managing to consistently catch and correct himself.

Watching Hermann with his siblings is an interesting experience, Newt reflects while the four of them are eating dinner. The younger boy having never had any can’t, of course, be entirely sure what constitutes normal, but things seem a little… _awkward_ between them all. It’s clear enough that all of them care for one another, but each has a very different language in which they communicate it. Bastien likes to tease, Karla likes to fuss, and Hermann… Well, Newt isn’t entirely sure he’s figured out Hermann’s language of fondness and affection is yet. But he’s there. And from the way Karla and Bastien talk about him in fond memories and stories growing up together, he always has been- helping Karla with her math homework, driving over in the middle of the night to pick up Bastien from friend’s party gone sour so their father won’t find out… Hermann is- a reliable constant, and uncharacteristically patient with the people he cares about, in a way that he generally reserves exclusively for his endless numbers, formulas, and calculations. Any grumbles he makes about Bastien’s endless stream of jokes at his expense, or Karla’s being an intrusive mother-hen, are immediately recognizable as half-hearted at best. And the fleeting thought that Hermann is patient and tolerates him as well, makes something somewhere in his chest flutter a little as Newt steals a glance across the table at him.

Karla had not automatically assumed that the two of them would be sharing a bed for the duration of the visit like his father and uncle had done for Thanksgiving. She offers, instead, to push Bastian out to the fold-out couch so that each of them could take one of the guest rooms, but Hermann had shaken his head and shut her down before the younger boy could even open his mouth.

“Das ist nicht nötig,“ the older boy replies simply, taking Newt’s hand and leading him down the hall to the room his sister had prepared.  
  
So they’re sleeping together again. Not that the younger boy has ever forgotten what that was like, despite it having been nearly a month now since the last time they did so, but _gott_ does it feel good. Like this is where the two of them belong. Slotted together like this, sharing one another’s warmth, relishing each other’s touch. And Hermann seems surprisingly eager with that last bit. It’s slow at first, tentative, the way the older boy always is with initiating any kind of physical contact between them. Well, except for that kiss back at the airport, Newt amends thoughtfully, blushing a little as he allows the memory to replay in his mind. Actually, Hermann has been uncharacteristically demonstrative in selling their story and alleged feelings for one another since Bastien collected them at luggage claim in a way that has the other boy struggling to find his footing. Not that Newt minds physical affection of any sort, or Hermann, specifically, being affectionate. But his mind is still trying to catch up with the fact he’s kissed- or rather, perhaps- _been kissed_ twice now by the older boy in the last week, which is two more times than he’s ever really dared to hope for.  
  
Now, Hermann’s longer, lankier, frame is slowly twisting, repositioning pillows, blankets, and finally Newt’s arm, to carefully slide under it and press in against his side, the older boy’s head coming to rest carefully on squarely on Newt‘s chest just above his increasingly fast beating heart. Newt can’t be sure whether Hermann’s eyes are closed because he’s simply that tired after their day of travel, or he’s afraid to look at him- maybe worried if he does that Newt will tell him off, or otherwise reject this new development. _Not on your life_ , Newt thinks with a soft internal chuckle, carefully wrapping his arm and the comforter a little more snug around Hermann’s shoulder, earning an impossibly soft and contented sigh and the barest hints of a smile tugging at the other boy’s thin lips.  
  
It’s been too long since the last time Newt got anything resembling a good night’s sleep, pushing himself too hard with finals, various research papers, theses, and grading his own student’s work in the last week so he wouldn’t have to bring any of it with him. The day of travel has taken plenty out of him too, but he it’s still some time after Hermann’s breathing shallows and levels out, turning to quiet snores that indicate he’s fallen asleep, before he allows himself to close his eyes. Whatever act they might be trying to convince Hermann’s siblings of, the fact of the matter remains that _here, right now_ , the two of them don’t have any audience to impress, and no reason to suspect Hermann’s elder sister or younger brother would come to check on or disturb them. There’s no reason for the older boy to be snuggling with him like this. Other than that he wants to. Newt doesn’t know what to make of that, but he’s certainly not about to start complaining.  
  
They decide to play tourists the following morning, driving downtown and meandering along main street, checking out the various brightly colored shop windows, before Hermann catches Newt wistfully eyeing a music shop and drags the younger boy inside to look around. It’s not really all that different from any other record and music store, but Newt immediately makes a bee-line for the section that boasts local and national artists. It’s not _impossible_ to find ‘legal’ means of securing European bands and artists back in the states, but it is hard to find much more than the same mainstream top 40 stuff. He’s looking over a few interesting looking CD covers, trying to decide from band names and song titles, which might be worthy of further investigation, while Bastien is perusing beside him, Karla and Hermann investigating the Classical/Instrumental section, when the young boy beside him gasps, snatching up a nearby disc for closer inspection.

“Ich wusste es,” Bastien all but shouts, immediately drawing the attention and scolding shushing of his older siblings in the otherwise quiet store. “I _knew_ you looked familiar,” Bastien insists, only a little more softly, shoving the case under Newt’s nose. “Black Velvet Rabbits,” he continues, looking to and failing to find any recognition in either Karla or Hermann’s face as they make their way over to them to see what the fuss is about.

“What,” Newt manages, flabbergasted, taking the album from the younger boy to better examine it. The album cover is shit- an obviously candid photograph taken from just a little too far away by someone in the second or third row judging by the scattered tops of people’s heads at the bottom of the frame. They’d spent most of their money on booking various venues, gas, and repairs for the van that barely accommodated the band and their various gear. They’d burned perhaps a hundred copies of their music to discs, and completely forgotten to put anything together for any kind of cover art. Sure, they had hopes of one day becoming something, had thought they were good enough, but they’d been playing together, playing at whatever gigs they could get for a year at best before the Kaiju appeared and started wreaking havoc. Their drummer was the first to leave, gone to look for family living in San Fransisco, and then Hundun made it clear this wasn’t just an isolated incident. The music and becoming rockstars took something of a backseat after that.

“It is,” Bastien presses, pointing a finger to the figure in the middle of the group, a bit pixelated, but what is unmistakably a slightly younger, skinnier Newt in much the same sort of old school punk attire he was wearing the day Hermann first laid eyes on him, minus the tattoo sleeves, and instead sporting spiked up hair with electric blue tips. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

Hermann who’s presses in close to inspect it as well. “Ja,” the older boy confirms, brows furrowed.

“Fick mich, Hermann,” Bastien manages openly gaping at Newt and his older brother. “You’re pulling out all the stops to be disowned or give father dearest a heart-attack, aren’t you? Your boyfriend is a Rockstar,” the younger boy marvels, shaking his head. And another time, Newt would probably revel in the pronouncement, thrill at the validation, even if it’s not even remotely true, but for the expression on Hermann’s face that looks somewhere between disappointed, and as though he’s been made to swallow something particularly bitter. “You’re a groupie, big brother,” the younger boy laughs.

What little color there once had been seems to drain from Hermann’s face, and Karla sensing the younger boy has finally gone a step too far in his teasing, abruptly slaps the back of the younger boy’s head, nodding over to her brother meaningfully, as Hermann manages to mumble something about ‘needing some air,’ and brushing past them all in a hurry to get out of the shop. Newt dumps the CDs he’d been holding carelessly into the shelf in front of him to hurry after him.

“Hermann,” the younger boy calls after the other’s quickly retreating figure. Hermann crosses the street a few blocks ahead to a small park, cursing his leg and the cold weather for forcing him to stop to take a seat on a bench just inside, as Newton stops in front of him a few moments later, breathing hard. “Hermann, what-“ Newt begins, but he cuts him off.

“You said you didn’t play,” Hermann interrupts, shaking his head, before finally looking up brows furrowed, brown eyes a cocktail of emotion Newt can’t entirely sort through, but hurt- that one he recognizes well enough. _Scheiße_. “'Not good enough to perform in front of anybody else', you said,” the older boy reminds him. And yeah, now he’s said it, Newt can remember saying something like to him early on.

“Herms, I didn’t- I don’t-“ Newt sputters.

“Clearly you _did_ , at least, at one time,” the older boy scowls bitterly.

“No, Herms, I didn’t,” Newt insists, shaking his head, finding a little more courage and certainty to contradict the other boy now. “I never did. Our critics made that pretty damn clear. Oh for God’s sake, Hermann, you’ve _heard_ me sing,” Newt exhales exasperatedly, bracing himself on his knees to finish catch his breath after racing after him, and better meet the other’s gaze that’s pointedly fixed on the ground.

“But you tried,” Hermann argues. “You had a band, performances-“

“And failed,” Newt points out. “We never made any money or a big name for ourselves. We barely made any discs, and we had to _give_ those away. That we’d ever find one here is just-“ the younger boy shakes his head lost for the words to describe the incredibly unlikely odds.

“You had a whole other part of your life I didn’t know about. That you lied to me about,” he adds finally looking up, and Newt had thought the older boy avoiding his gaze sucked, but the disappointment in those brown eyes is infinitely worse. “Why? Do you have any idea how foolish that makes me feel? Bastien is right- what my father would think if…”

“If what, Herms,” Newt demands a bit angrily. “We’re not actually dating, remember," the younger boy points out, much as it pains him to do so. "And, so what if we were? Your father wouldn’t like me. Because I like and used to be in a punk rock band? Because I’ve got tattoos? Because my head’s not quite right?”

“Because you’re a distraction,” Hermann interrupts. “And because, you’re a man. And then maybe all those other things,” the older boy mumbles softly, frowning, though blessedly for the first time in the last few minutes, not at Newt.

“So what,” Newt challenges, perhaps a bit too loudly, ignoring a glare of a passing elderly woman. “No, really. So-Fucking-what. Life is full of distractions. Life needs distractions. It can’t be all work, all the time and absolutely nothing else. That’s not living. So, I’ve got a dick. You like dicks. Your dad can go suck one. Treating you like shit or pretending isn’t going to suddenly make you straight. He can’t fix you, Hermann. You can’t fix you, because there’s _nothing_ wrong with you. You’re fucking amazing, Hermann,” Newt insists. “You are. Look, I didn’t tell you about the band because I wanted you to like me. I didn’t want you to think of me as a failure. I know that’s stupid, but it’s the truth. Herms, the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt or make you feel stupid,” the younger boy continues, pleadingly, desperately praying for the other to believe him.

“Maybe it wasn’t funny, but Bastien was only teasing,” Newt continues frustratedly when the older boy continues to avoid his gaze. “Your brother and sister don’t care. They love you. And they’re so proud of you. Anyone can see it. Your father is a fucking asshole, Hermann. Especially to you. Why on Earth do you still give a damn what he thinks? So far as I can tell the one and only good thing that man ever did was donate half his genetic code to make you and your siblings. Well, Karla and Bastien at least. I haven’t met the other one, so…” Newt trails off babbling as Hermann lifts his head to stare at him.

“I care,” Hermann replies. “Because I want to prove him wrong.”

“But you don’t _have_ to,” Newt insists, giving up on standing in favor of kneeling on the ground in front of him to make sure Hermann can’t avoid looking at him anymore. “Hermann, he’s already wrong,” the younger boy presses on. “About everything where you’re concerned, as far as I can tell. And if your father is really as stubborn and as much of an ass as you and your siblings tell me then it doesn’t matter what you say, or do, he’ll probably still cling to the idea that he’s right and you’re wrong, that he’s important and you’re worthless. Aren’t you tired of letting him tell you who you are and what you can do,” Newt asks, hands slowly reaching up to cover the other boy’s where they rest on his knees. “So fuck him! Join the rowing team anyway. Get a boyfriend,” Newt insists, much as the thought of the older boy with anyone else sends a little twinge of jealousy through him. He deserves to be happy, though, even if it means it’s with someone else, Newt thinks. “Live _your_ life, not his.”

There’s a long moment of silence that passes between them as large brown eyes, pupils blown wide with surprise stare back into Newt’s greenish brown ones, before the moment is suddenly interrupted by soft clapping and whistles- Bastien and Karla have finally found and caught up with them.

“Heirate ihn, Liebling,” Karla cheers tearfully. Newt blushes a little with embarrassment. He’s not sure how much of their conversation they might have heard, but he can’t truly bring himself to regret it. He’ll stand by it. He meant it. _Every word_ , he thinks, turning back to Hermann with an expression that he hopes conveys as much, and suddenly Hermann is yanking him up by his scarf so that the two of them are level with one another, and throwing his arms around him, hugging the younger boy so tightly it almost hurts.

Hermann’s breathless ‘thank you’ is choked with emotion and almost swallowed by hot tears, some of which drip down between Newt’s neck and the collar of his coat, but he can’t be made to care. Instead, he pulls his arms out from where they are crushed between them, wrapping them around the skinnier boy, and hugs him back just as fiercely. “You’re amazing, Hermann” Newt repeats fondly, but firmly against the ruff of the other boy’s coat, fingers digging in to the down padding for purchase. _I love you_ , Newt thinks, but doesn’t say, the three words echoing, almost a shout in his head. _I love you. I love you. I love you._

 _I love you_ , Hermann thinks, clinging to the smaller, younger boy as he desperately tries to get ahold of himself and reign back in his tears. When finally he has, he allows Newt to help him stand from the bench and hand him his cane, but taking the younger boy’s arm and linking it in his opposite as well, before Newt can protest. Not that he would dream of it. Hermann leads them back down the street to the shop where he insists on buying both copies of the Black Velvet Rabbit’s shitty album the store has on the shelf and a gold permanent marker, before forcing the other to autograph them. One for himself, he explains with a small smile, as Newt scribbles ‘ _For Hermann. You’re amazing. Love, Newt xoxo_ ’ without a hint of irony or insincerity.

“What about the other one,” Karla asks curiously, smiling as she reads Newt’s dedication to Hermann over his shoulder.

“I’m sending it to father,” Hermann replies matter-a-factly. Bastien bursts out laughing, clapping his older brother carefully on the back.

“Schön für dich,” Bastien grins, nodding approvingly.

‘ _To Lars_ ,’ Newt writes on the second disc. ‘ _Fuck you. -Newt_ ’

Karla insists they take a picture together, Hermann keeps his arms looped in Newt’s, tugging him as close to him as their thick coats will allow as they all squeeze together to get in the shot, his other hand carefully gripping his cane and his autographed CD with a smile. They go back to window shopping, grabbing some lunch at a nearby café, and spend the drive back home blasting and all attempting to sing along to Hermann’s new CD. _It’s absolutely ridiculous_ , Newt thinks shaking his head before turning his gaze towards the front seat where Hermann is sitting tapping his fingers on his knee with a satisfied smile. _It’s absolutely perfect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Das ist nicht nötig_ (No need)  
>  _Ich wusste es_ (I knew it!)  
>  _Ja_ (yes)  
>  _Fick mich_ (Fuck me)  
>  _Scheiße_ (Shit)  
>  _Heirate ihn, Liebling_ (Marry him, darling!)


	18. Qualitative Observation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

The two are taking a short walk amidst a fresh layer of powdery snow that's fallen overnight. Hermann, feeling considerably lighter after yesterday's events in town has left his cane back at the house, and Newt had wordlessly fallen into step at his side, not coddling or second-guessing him, but ready to assist if he should need or ask it of him in a way that’s become a kind of second-nature now for them both. The crisp winter air has that almost pleasant and familiar bite to it of the air being a little thinner for the temperature as it fills the elder boy's lungs, and everything except the two of them seems blessedly far away and utterly unimportant.

They're making their way towards a small lake where he and his siblings had often played as children. This time of the year would have seen his siblings ice-skating. Hermann's body being considerably more frail, he had often sat on the sidelines. It's still a pleasant memory, though. Watching Karla teach Bastien the finer points and techniques, their laughter echoing off the surrounding trees.

In the summer, they would swim. He never went much farther than he was able to touch bottom, of course, but had relished the rare opportunity to actually join his siblings in some of their games and play. His mother had found it first- the lake. Had packed and helped her children to carry a picnic lunch to eat on the shore. They'd lounged for a time afterwards, Bastien albeit rather impatiently, to allow their food to settle before testing the water. He recalls stretching out on the blanket, eyes closed as the bright and warm early-summer sun shone down on them, his head gently pillowed in his mother's lap, one of her hands, with long and delicate fingers gently combing through his hair, occasionally massaging at his scalp while she read to them from a book of poems.

The colder weather stopped agreeing with her as they grew older, and Hermann stopped coming to the lake with his siblings after that. Preferring instead to stay at home with her and taking up the mantle of reading her books of poems to her instead, when she was too tired or too weak to hold the book. He'd brought her here one last time while Hermann had been home from university for winter break- bundled up tight, tucked into a sled, after she begged to see Karla and Bastien skating again, all of them happy and laughing together. All of them knowing it would probably be the last time. She'd died sometime in her sleep later that evening. She'd left all her poetry anthologies to Hermann who'd always loved hearing and reading them best, but the elder boy has yet to take them out of the boxes, had lost all faith until recently that there was any truth to the words- to there being any kind of sense or beauty to the world beyond his numbers. Hermann had transferred to the states to finish his studies the following year, and hasn't been back to the lake since.

He expects for it to hurt. It does. But somehow, it's not so crippling as the prospect had been last year. Perhaps because of the younger boy who accompanies him, carrying a small bouquet of winter-blooming flowers, and wordlessly handing them over to him to lay down when they reach the small bench Bastien's designed and erected by the lake in their mother’s memory.

Newt doesn't much care for silence, Hermann knows, but for once he doesn't try to fill the quiet between them with any, surely inadequate words. Simply keeping quiet, but constant company, as one gloved hand reaches out to clasp and hold his, not letting go for the entire walk back to the where Karla waits for them with the car.

"You didn't have to come," Hermann whispers softly as the car bears them back to Karla's.

"Don't be ridiculous. I wasn't about to let you do that alone. Not unless that was what you wanted," Newt assures him quietly letting a hand fall gently on to the older boy's knee in a gesture of solidarity and comfort.

………………………………

"Move in with me," Newt blurts out later that evening as the pair of them are getting ready to climb into their shared bed once more, stopping the other boy in his tracks.

 "What," Hermann asks sounding startled.

"I mean, would you- erm,"Newt coughs, clearing his throat. "I just thought, you know your roommate kind of sucks what with the random sex sprees with his girlfriend with no notice and all, you usually wind up coming over to visit me anyway... and I have a much bigger room, but nobody to share it with," he offers with a nervous half-shrug.

"Would they even allow that," Hermann asks skeptically.

"Of course, why not?"

"Because you're technically faculty," the elder boy points out.

"Still not _your_ teacher, though," Newt points out with a wink. "It's not against any rules, I checked," he assures him, but rather than looking reassured by this, Hermann's frown seems to become still more deeply etched in his face.

"I- I don't think that's such a good idea," Hermann manages softly, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I- wait, what?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermann repeats with an apologetic and rueful looking half-smile for the younger boy. “I’m sorry, Newton. We get on really well, but dynamics can change living with someone. I- I wouldn’t want to mess this up,” Hermann admits softly, before quickly ducking out of the room and retreating down the hall to brush his teeth and pull himself together again, doing his best not to recall the confused and incredibly disappointed look on Newt’s face when he had turned him down.

He had to, though, right? It’s a matter of self-preservation, he thinks, glaring a bit bitterly at his reflection in the mirror hanging over the sink. Hermann’s done an admirable job so far, maintaining the line between friends and his obviously one-sided desire to share something more between them. He’s aware this act they are putting on while they’re visiting his siblings can’t and won’t last any longer than the trip back to the airport to drop Newton off at the end of the week. But living together? Seeing him all the time? In various states of mood, mind, dress… perhaps seeing him eventually with a girlfriend? A boyfriend?

Hermann shakes his head, dropping down to spit what remains of his toothpaste into the drink before washing it down the drain. No, he’s not that much of a glutton for punishment. Not that confident that he could pull it off- pretending that he’s satisfied being so close to what he wants without ever actually being able to have it. He can’t do it. Difficult, impossible even, as the task of telling Newton no had been, it was the right choice, Hermann decided as he passed the other in the hall making his way back to their shared room. So why doesn’t it feel like it?

…………………………………………………..

Newt takes off his glasses, blinking at his now blurry reflection, just as well really, he doesn’t much want to see himself right now, anyway, he thinks, possibly brushing his teeth a bit too vigorously. He’d been so sure Hermann would say yes. He wouldn’t have asked if he’d had any doubts. Or perhaps more accurately, he had asked before he could develop any doubts and lose his nerve. It was a rather spontaneous thought, but it had seemed a good one. A way of guaranteeing that one way or another they’d continue to be able to see and spend time with one another even if they wouldn’t be sharing any courses next semester. They got on so well, and Newt hadn’t found an organic way to go about bringing it up when he’d asked him to move in with him, but he certainly sleeps more soundly bed-sharing with the older boy. He’s not altogether sure that the same applies to Hermann, but then the other boy has never actually complained about it, and he’d been the one to initiate doing so here, despite it being wholly unnecessary to maintain their cover story with his siblings. But he’d turned him down. Almost immediately, Newt thinks with a frown. Why?

Hermann is already in bed, his customary pillow arrangement to minimize any discomfort to his legs already in place as Newt gently peels back the comforter and sheet to slide in behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Hermann says softly. So softly, Newt is fairly sure he would have missed it if he weren’t in such close proximity to him. “You seemed rather excited about the idea. I didn’t mean to—“ But whatever it is that Hermann actually meant to say or do he seems to struggle for a moment in articulating it. “Du bedeutest mir viel, und ich genieße deine Firma,” the older boy admits. “That isn’t going to change just because we won’t have any classes together. But living together? I just- would hate to… disappoint you,” Hermann concludes quietly.

“Hermann, you could never,” Newt starts to protest, but Hermann simply shakes his head in a way that the other boy knows well enough means that for Hermann the matter is closed, his mind made up. Stubborn ass, Newt thinks, though he only half means it. It’s not as though Newt’s unaware of his ability to be bullheaded too. Perhaps, he thinks as Hermann's gentle snores slowly fill the air beside him, trying to comfort and soothe himself enough to coax sleep to take him, he will manage to sell Hermann on the idea yet.

"Newt," Hermann mumbles sleepily with a groan some hours later when Newt’s tightly strung body, twitching with anxiousness finally rouses him, Hermann’s arm reflexively tightening where it's draped around the younger boy's middle. "It's not even light out yet. Go back to sleep."

Newt wants to. Sort of. He'd like nothing better than to melt into where the elder boy's turned around to embrace and spoon him until it's properly time to start the day. But the younger boy still hasn't recovered from the sudden revelation he'd had at dinner that the week is already half over. Soon enough Hermann and his siblings will be driving him back to the airport and Newt will have to say his goodbyes- not knowing whether or not he'll ever have the opportunity to see, to visit and laugh with Karla or Bastien again. Not knowing how much he will be able to see and spend any significant time with Hermann next semester, or what will happen after that. It's a terribly devastating and terrifying thought. So Newt doesn't want to sleep, doesn't want to miss a single moment of this, in case there won't be anymore.

He's losing himself in replaying all his favorite conversations and memories when it suddenly hits him, and with all the force of an oncoming train, jerking him into abruptly sitting upright. Hermann despite his previous grumblings rouses only seconds after, sitting up as quickly as he is able to manage and quickly appraising him, deep brown eyes sweeping over him brimming with concern.

"Newt? Are you alright?"

"I-" Newt struggles shaking his head. "Gott, you were being serious, weren't you? And I, just... how did I miss-? Fuck." Anyone else the younger boy knows from experience would have snapped at him already, about the too early hour, and to get to the damn point already. A year ago, Hermann would probably have been one of those people. Instead the older boy gently rubs his eyes, before adjusting a pillow against the headboard to better rest more comfortably while he waits for the other to find the words to articulate what's upset him so much.

"When you asked me to come here with you, to meet your siblings," Newt manages finally after drawing a deep and steadying breath, the courage to plow forward despite the abject terror of being wrong, of screwing everything up- again, maybe even for good this time. Hermann nods gently, wordlessly coaxing him to continue. "You asked whether I'd prefer you introduce me as your friend, or your boyfriend... I thought maybe you just wanted a break from Karla trying to fix you up," Newt continues watching as the elder boy swallows, looking increasingly more nervous and uncomfortable as he goes on.

"Seemed only fair after you helped me with Ericka, without my even having to ask, really," the younger boy shrugs. "I thought you were talking about continuing the charade, but you..." Newt hesitates, worrying his bottom lip, but he's come this far, and he has to know. "You were talking about making it real, weren't you?"

Hermann swallows again, and for a moment the elder boy is all but certain he can feel each terrified and seemingly thunderous beating of his heart against his ribs, suddenly far more awake than he had been moments before.

"And I totally fucked it all up," Newt mumbles staring at his hands as fingers twist uncomfortably around one another in a failed attempt at a self-soothing gesture.

"I was," Hermann admits finally, words coming out on an exhale before he can lose his nerve. "But you didn't- fuck it all up," he clarifies as Newt's wide green eyes suddenly shoot back up to search his own brown ones. "Not yet. I- I'm not entirely sure you could," Hermann confesses with a wry, entirely fond smile that tugs hard at Newt's heartstrings.

Gott, but even like this: clothing rumpled, dark circles under his eyes, hair in complete disarray, Hermann is unfairly beautiful. Otherworldly so. Newt is pretty sure whatever Hermann might say or think, he could find a way of screwing it all up. He's rather gifted that way. He's not about to let that stand in his way right now, though. Not when the boy he's all but convinced-resigned himself to never being able to have is admitting that he's at least curious, interested in seeing if they can make something more of this than a game of pretend.

"I- do you think maybe you could try asking me again? Promise I'll be less oblivious, this time," he jokes with a nervous chuckle. "If that's still what you want, that is... I-"

"Yes, Newton. Of course, I still want to be with you. I don't know when it happened exactly, but some days it feels like... like I've always wanted that, I just didn't know it yet. Didn't know you, yet," he admits, blushing a little. "I want to be with you. When the whole world is watching," Hermann interrupts cutting him off. "And," he continues a little softer, gently reaching out to take and bring the younger boy's hands in to clasp them between his. "When absolutely no one else is." Now it seems it's Newt's turn to swallow, because he's fairly confident his heart has just leapt up into his throat.

"I know we haven't really talked about the future much," Newt admits, as Hermann nods once more, "I've got my research, and you've got the Academy. Heh," Newts chuckles a bit hollowly, shaking his head. "We haven't even really talked about next semester, but... I like the idea of the future a whole lot better with you in it with me," the younger boy assesses, giving Hermann's hands where they clasp his own a gentle squeeze.

“As do I,” Hermann agrees nodding softly, a small, but entirely hopeful smile growing at the corners of his mouth as he stares back into the younger boy’s bright and shining green eyes. He’s dreaming, he thinks. He must be. Things like this don’t actually happen, and certainly not to him. Besides, even if Newt does actually want to be with him, it’s only a matter of time before he changes his mind, before he realizes what exactly he’s taking on if he actually hopes for this to go anywhere or last at all. Between his slowly deteriorating physical health, general irritability… Well, Hermann is well aware he’s not what most people would think of as a particularly good catch. But Newt is still staring at him, looking absolutely awe-struck, with perhaps the same or at the least, parallel sorts of concerns and insecurities leading him to disbelieve any of this is really happening.

“Wow, so um…” Newt stammers after another minute or two. “I’m definitely not falling back asleep anytime soon now,” the younger boy laughs softly, shaking his head. Hermann smiles softly, brushing some errant strands of hair from Newt’s forehead, before adjusting a little where he's sitting, leaned back against the headboard.

"Did you ever fall asleep in the first place," Hermann asks with a suspiciously knowing and lightly amused glance towards him.

"For a little bit," the younger boy replies defensively. "I had a lot on my mind."

"And now?"

"Even more," Newt admits with a slightly sheepish grin.

"Alright. Let's hear it then," Hermann prompts, nodding.

"Okay," Newt nods, swallowing. "Will you move in with me, now?"

"No," Hermann replies, shaking his head. "Not yet," he adds, smiling in spite of himself at the other boy's hopeful expression. "I- I'm still afraid of messing this up. And we should probably try just being boyfriends for a bit, instead of just pretending to be. But I'll think about it, and we can revisit the issue later," he offers by way of compromise. Newt nods. It's a start. Certainly far better than the more so than the elder boy's previous answer to his proposal.

"Boyfriend," Newt repeats, testing the word on his tongue, before smiling brightly. "Can I tell people?"

"I thought we already were," Hermann chuckles softly, shaking his head.

"My Uncle and dad," Newt clarifies, smiling back at him.

"Of course," Hermann nods.

“You do know they'll insist on another visit from you, right," Newt cautions.

"To give me the shovel talk, I assume."

"No. Well, I mean, they might, but. You're all I can talk about sometimes when they ask about school, how I'm doing, all of that.  They were supportive when I wasn't sure if men, or me specifically, might be of any interest to you in that way. Besides, they like you. Not meant so much as I do, of course, but that goes without saying," Newt grins.

"Alright, so.... Nicknames," Newt offers next. "Do you like them? Or was tolerating them that just part of acting like a couple?"

"Depends on the name, I suppose," Hermann replies truthfully with a small shrug. "Still not sold on this... 'Bärchen’-business. But what about you?"

"Aw, cmon, that's a perfect fit," the younger boy protests.

"Perhaps you’ll have to explain it to me, then," Hermann replied skeptically.

"Well, it's like... most people are a bit afraid of you, because you know you can be a bit- grumpy. Dangerous, maybe. But deep down you're really a teddy bear. Or, you are with me at least," Newt shrugs, smiling a little. Not the most flattering or convincing argument Hermann has ever heard, but the hopeful sort of look on Newt's face has him feeling generous, or maybe just weak. “I don’t know, it all makes a lot more sense in my head. Talking it out aloud... “ he shakes his head. “It’s meant to be nice. Having you with me, it makes me feel safe, warm, cared for. Like a teddy bear.”

"Alright…”Hermann nods, reluctantly.  “But maybe, sparingly in any public scenarios." Particularly anyone that has an understanding of German, he thinks.

"Really? Yes," Newt grins. "Of course."

“Du bist entzückend, mein Schatz,” Hermann smiles fondly.

"Am I, really? …’Your treasure’," Newt asks cautiously, eyes shimmering.

"Of course, you are,” the older boy replies in the same, daring him to challenge him, matter-a-fact tone that he would deliver his formulas or the results of his calculations.

"I really wanna kiss you," Newt blurts out, cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of pink as he realizes what he's just said. "I mean... is that something you- can I?”

“Ja. Mein gott, ja. Bitte," Hermann laughs shaking his head as the younger boy presses forward with a delighted grin.

They are, neither of them, without some personal bias in the matter, but Newt and Hermann are both inclined to think that this kiss is their best one yet. It’s not so much a single kiss as a series of fumbling attempts, really. The two of them both being on the same page about it this time: both aware of the full significance and meaning behind it, that it’s not a performance for anyone’s benefit, and the fact they’ve a few under their belt already, does surprisingly little to improve their skill. For one thing Newt can’t seem to stop giggling, nor Hermann smiling, they bump noses a couple of times, and Hermann’s legs have become so hopelessly tangled in the sheets while sleeping that he nearly falls into his lap when he attempts to scoot closer. But they manage to find a kind of rhythm between them after some trial and error. Hermann nips gently at the other’s bottom lip, and Newt opens up to him, tongues and breaths twining together. It’s far too soon, Hermann thinks, for any sort of declaration of love, even if it seems the pair of them have been dancing around one another for at least some months now. But that certainly doesn’t mean he can’t pour all the things he can’t say into this. So, that’s exactly what he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Du bedeutest mir viel, und ich genieße deine Firma_ (You mean a lot to me, and I enjoy your company)  
>  _Bärchen_ (term of endearment meaning, Little bear)  
>  _Du bist entzückend, mein Schatz_ (You're adorable, my treasure)  
>  _Ja. Mein gott, ja. Bitte_ (Yes. My God, yes. Please.)


	19. Fissures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

The thing is Newt ought to be thrilled. And he is. _Really_ , he is, he thinks even as he scowls a bit at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Hermann Gottlieb has agreed to be his boyfriend. Not just for show or to deter unwelcome matchmaking or advances, but because he's genuinely attracted to and interested in him. _Him_. He should be jumping for joy. Some part of him is. It's just... well, it's just his luck that this would come together just a few days before he's heading back home. That he will now have to face the two remaining weeks until Hermann returns and the new term starts with just the memory of this last week and his anxiety and doubts that are sure to dog him. Hermann is only just down the hall with Bastien and Karla, getting some breakfast while Newt freshens up a bit, and somehow he's already freaking out.

He woke up that morning with Hermann curled into him, arms wrapped around him, one leg gently draped over one of his own. It felt right. Perfect. It felt like something he could get used to. Something he wants to have every morning. And that's where the trouble started. The only thing, the only person that's ever actually remained constant in Newt's life has been his uncle Illia. Everything and everyone else had come and gone, and if he was very lucky (his father) or very unlucky (Erika) eventually came back around again. He's learned not to hope for things, or at least nothing that hinges upon another person if he can help it. But he wants this. _Badly_. Which makes it that much more infuriating, terrifying, really, when he finds himself dissociating while he's getting dressed.

Newt drops the comb into the sink, running fingers through his hair, then clenching them and pulling a little harder than is necessary, desperately trying to find something to ground him in the present, but the sensation of numbness, of being at once trapped in, and rather outside of his own body persists. _No, no, no_ , Newt thinks, splashing icy cold water from the two on his face. _Please not now_ , he begs staring blankly at himself in the mirror. He has three days left, two-and-a-half, really, and he doesn't want to spend them like this. Doesn't want to waste a day numb, or angry. Doesn't want Bastien, Karla or _gott_ Hermann to see him like this.

Newt manages to eat something- toast and jam, he thinks- but doesn't really taste it. Karla and Bastien have a few errands they need to do in town that they didn't manage to accomplish while they'd been sightseeing the other day. Nothing likely to be of interest to either Newt or Hermann, so when Hermann suggests they remain behind instead, Newt offers an absent nod of assent.

He might have known that Hermann was far too clever to miss anything, even if he hadn't been around for one of Newt's episodes before. Newt's alluded to them, and Hermann will no doubt by now have done some studying up on Borderline Personality Disorder since the two of them have become better friends, out of scientific curiosity if nothing else. The older boy has scarcely shut the door behind his sister and brother before he turns his attention back to him with a look of concern.

"Newt, are you upset with me," he probes gently.

"Yes. No! I mean, yes I am, but- not really? I mean it's stupid. I know it's stupid, but I can't help it," the younger boy says shaking his head. "You should just stay away from me. Spend some more time with your siblings. They haven't pulled out of the driveway yet. You could still flag them down and go with them. Or I could go get them," he adds hastily, not sure what the other boy's mobility and pain level might be yet. "I should just... stop talking," Newt rambles, shaking his head furiously, hands balling up into tight, white-knuckled fists.

Hermann doesn't take the bait and instead crosses the distance separating them surprisingly quickly for yesterday having been a bad day, gently taking the younger boy's hand in his own that isn't gripping his cane, and offering it a reassuring squeeze. "Talk to me," he coaxes.

"I feel... wrong," Newt replied frowning. "And- It's- you've never really seen a bad day for me before," the younger boy continues, shaking his head again.

"I suspect you've done what you could to make sure of that," Hermann nods softly.

"Yeah," Newt admits, perhaps a bit sheepishly.

"So, explain it to me. If you can," Hermann encourages with another soft squeeze of the younger boy's hand. "In your own time," he assures him patiently as he guides them both over to sit down on the large couch in the living room.

"I... I don't really know how to explain it," Newt admits, with a frustrated huff. "I've not really tried to explain it to many people before. But- sometimes it's... it's like an itch I know I can't resist scratching. Sometimes I wake up feeling wrong, or it'll just hit me out of the blue. All I know is that I don't really feel in control anymore. It feels more like I'm trapped. Like I'm being held hostage by my own mind. I go between not feeling anything and being detached to being a fucking live wire," he admits with a frustrated huff and shake of his head. "And I know I'm being irrational, that I'm too sensitive and emotional, but I can't help it. Little things that would only irritate me on a good day are suddenly infuriating, maddening. Stupid things make me want to cry," he continues, cautiously looking up at Hermann from under his lashes. But the older boy, though he can't possibly understand first-hand what Newt is talking about is continuing to watch and to listen as patiently as ever, as patient as he only is for maths, his siblings, and now, Newt himself.

Newt wants to dive in. To wrap himself up in that knowledge and all the warmth that accompanies it, push out and ignore all of the rest of it- everything else he feels now that he knows somewhere in him isn't right. Because it's not right to be upset with Hermann about this. It's not the older boy's fault. And Newt doesn't want to screw this up before they've even had a chance to enjoy or explore what they could be with each other, beyond the friendship and rapport they've already built together. If he hasn't completely fucked this up already, the younger boy thinks with a sinking feeling in his chest. A smart person would look at this, would hear what he's saying, and run for the hills. And Hermann well, he's probably the smartest person Newt has ever met.

"I... I don't like to be around people when I'm like this," he admits softly.

"Would you like me to leave, give you some space," Hermann asks carefully.

"No," Newt shakes his head, momentarily gripping Hermann's hand a little tighter where it rests intertwined with his own. "Hermann, I..." he sighs heavily. "I know it's stupid, but I'm scared; all the time really," he confesses, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. "I'm flawed. And a lot of fucking work. Maybe more than most. I know I pretend, I'm not. But I never actually convince myself, never really forget, as much as I'd like to. So I'm afraid. I'm afraid the people I care about are going to figure out one day that they don't want to deal with this anymore. That they won't want me anymore. That I'll screw up so badly, they'll just leave."

"Like Erika?"

"Yeah. Or my mom. I mean, maybe she knew, somehow. Saw it before anyone else could... but, I don't know that it would matter. I mean, nature, nurture... I don't know how much of it is the sum of my experiences and what comes down to neurochemistry, but... yeah," Newt nods finally with a slump of his shoulders.

"And you're worried that I'll leave you," Hermann asks.

"I'm worried everyone will," Newt replies quietly. "That I'll be alone. Forever. But yes, I'm terrified of losing you."Newt slowly forces himself to drag large and watery green eyes back up from where he'd been determinedly staring at their joined hands to meet the older boy's gaze once more.

"You make me happier than I've ever been, Herms. And I... I can't imagine life without you anymore. But, I'm not sure what I give you. Or that it's enough, to make up for- everything else. I want it to be. But even if you told me as much, I probably wouldn't be convinced. I'd still worry. And on a bad day- that means fighting down every impulse to pick a fight or screw up on purpose to push you away. Because if it's going to happen anyway, better that I see it coming, that I make it happen- and sooner rather than later," Newt continues tearfully.  


"Try me," Hermann challenges earning a startled look from the younger boy. "I'm serious, Newton. Try me," he repeats. "We argue and fight all the time, and you've not got rid of me yet. And if you think, for one second, that I won't fight every bit as hard to keep you... You are-" Hermann shakes his head, struggling to find just the right words for what he wishes to express. "Mein Schatz. Mein," he repeats sliding long and wiry arms around the other boy and wrapping him up in a tight hug. "I'm not about to let you go that easily, Liebling," Hermann promises, the words whispered but sure, warm where they brush against the shell of his ear. "I've never been happier either. I've no intention of just giving that--of giving _you_ \-- up."

"I'm sorry," Newt exhales, barely choking back a sob as he throws himself into the other boy's hug as much as he's able without unbalancing or hurting him, burrowing his face into his chest.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Hermann promises with a slight shake of his head, fingers gently threading through and combing the younger boy's hair. "I am so proud of you," Hermann continues, once more taking Newt by surprise, the younger boy's head jerking up to meet his gaze again. "I know this can't have been easy for you to talk about," the older boy offers with a gentle smile. "Perhaps, especially with me," he acknowledges with a knowing look. "I might not always be able to help you," Hermann admits with a small frown. "But I'm here," he promises. "You don't have to go through it all alone anymore."

It's perhaps not the right moment for it, maybe it's a little desperate at first, but Newt can't hold it back any longer, and nor does he want to. He crushes his lips against Hermann's toppling them both backwards, only realizing and worrying he may have injured him a few breathless moments later, but Hermann shakes his head, pressing his own mouth back up against Newt'sand one hand grabbing hold of the younger boy's collar to pull him back down and flush with him before Newt can ask. They've said enough already. Hermann's kisses aren't nearly so anxious or needy, they're far more tender, patient, soothing... and eventually Newt's kisses and heart rate slow to pace his. He's not magically cured. There's still the worry in the back of his head about what he'll do if he has another episode, or how many it will take before Hermann has had enough, but for now, Newt does his best to push those thoughts back down.  


He rolls off of Hermann only because he worries about squashing him, acutely aware of how much smaller his boyfriend is, before repositioning them so he can lie beside him. He's usually been the big spoon up to this point, curling himself possessively around Hermann in his sleep, but he thinks the older boy holding him like this is every bit as good, humming softly as Hermann takes to gently combing his fingers through his hair again, even if it'll probably wind up making it flatter than he generally prefers.

"You're worried about going back home," Hermann deduces quietly. Newt doesn't answer, burrowing a little more into the skinnier boy's chest and arms, which for Hermann is probably answer enough.

"What is the worst thing you imagine might happen?" Newt huffs, recognizing the other boy's transparent attempt to talk him through his anxiety, but it doesn't annoy him coming from Hermann as much as his last therapist had.

"You'll realize this is a mistake," Newt mumbles softly.

"And leave you," Hermann finishes. Newt doesn't respond, but he knows he doesn't have to. It wasn't really a question. Hermann hugs him a little tighter where he's laying in his arms, gently nuzzling his face, burying his nose in Newt's hair, resting his cheek against the other's temple with a small sigh, but Newt is calm enough now to recognize it's not an impatient one. Hermann isn't angry or frustrated with him. Not yet.

"Newt, I can't promise that I won't hurt you," Hermann offers slowly. "But I promise I won't mean to," he continues, pressing a fleeting and featherlight kiss against his hairline. "You said words wouldn't be enough to convince you. I understand," Hermann promises, thinking fleetingly of Doctor's promises- for his mother, and more recently for his own health. He thinks of his father, the way he always dangled his approval like a carrot just out of his reach. Of the books of poetry in a box in Karla's attic, still sealed. Words are easy. Easily given. Easily misconstrued. Easily broken. Newt needs proof, certainty, just as he does. Just as he finds and loves in his numbers.

Newt still hasn't looked up from the other boy's chest, but he can feel Hermann's face where it rests against him as his lips pull into a small frown. "You wait, give me the chance, and I'll prove it to you," Hermann whispers determinedly. "You're stuck with me now," he smiles softly, and Newt lets out a small chuckle, before squeezing where he's wrapped himself around him.

"We'll Skype when you get back," Hermann continues, resuming affectionately stroking Newt's hair. "Every day. I know it's not quite the same as my being there, but-" he trails off, uncertain of what else to say.

"That's okay," Newt mumbles into the older boy's shirt, slowly pulling himself back enough to meet Hermann's deep brown eyes with his. "That's- I'd like that," he acknowledges shyly with a nod.

"Good," Hermann smiles softly, looking relieved at having found something which he can offer the younger boy in consolation.

It's a nice enough day, if a little bit chilly, and Newt has always found, even on days where it was especially hard to muster the enthusiasm, that a little fresh air often does him good. He can't remember if he's shared this with Hermann before or not. It's difficult at times to remember whom he's told what, which sometimes means telling the same stories to someone more than once. He's sure he's done that with Hermann at some point by now, but the older boy has never once interrupted or scolded him, made him feel foolish for it the way some people have. So when Hermann suggests that the pair of them go for a walk, Newt simply agrees. If they lie here on the couch together for much longer, he may simply go back to sleep- fighting with one's own brain is an exhausting endeavor- but he wants to make the most of what remains of his visit. Newt relishes the slight bite of the cold air as it hits his lungs with each inhale, and the warmth of Hermann's hand where it's curled around and intertwined with his own. For a day that started off rather poorly, Newt thinks it's not so terrible after all.

Elsewhere, a lot of people are having a horrifyingly terrible day. Newt wonders fleetingly if perhaps this isn't karma for his day turning around- as he and Hermann join Karla and Bastien on the sofa, clasping hands, knees, whatever of each other is solid and within reach, pressing into one another as they watch shaky cell phone footage of the attack and the destruction left in Reckoner's wake, listening to reports and reading the ticker for more news- before dismissing the thought as entirely ridiculous. Karla makes several loud phone calls to shout at Dieterich and Lars in German and somewhat broken English for not 'pulling their heads out of their asses long enough to pick up their phones and reassure everyone they are alright', leveling various threats if they don't call her back within a reasonable amount of time, which include but are not limited to killing them if the Kaiju hasn't already done so. It's almost as ridiculous as it is touching, even if it is directed at- so far as Newt's been able to determine- less than deserving individuals for such concern.

"Promise me you'll be safe," Newt whispers later that evening when they've all finally given up any new information coming in for a while and turned in for the night, though he doubts any of them will get much sleep. "Promise me no matter what happens you'll call me, as soon as you can to tell me you're okay?"

"I promise," Hermann swears solemnly, drawing him into a slow and tender kiss. It's the easiest promise that Hermann has ever made, and one the older boy is sure he won't regret or have any trouble with keeping. "And you too?"

"Yes," Newt nods, stealing another kiss.

"You going to add it to the collection," Hermann asks quietly, fingers carefully tracing the sunbursts between the various Kaiju tattoos that decorate Newt's arms.

"Not yet. I'll have to sketch it first. Better to wait until we've got decent footage and images for references," Newt replies a bit absently, staring up at the ceiling.

"Can I come," Hermann asks, surprising himself as much with the request as it seems he does Newt.

"You want to-? Yeah! Sure, of course, you can," Newt nods enthusiastically. He knows even after his attempts to explain and justify it, Hermann still doesn't entirely understand his need to immortalize these monsters on his body, but the idea that he'd want to come with him, to support him anyway makes his heart swell. It seems like it should feel wrong somehow, being happy in the midst of such heartache and chaos, but nobody's ever accused Newt of being entirely selfless. And really, Newt thinks as Hermann's fingers slowly become more sluggish and drunken in their movement and his breaths dissolves into soft snores against him, the younger boy's own eyelids beginning to feel heavy, if you can't find some kind of happiness somewhere these days, what the hell was there to fight for?


	20. Wavelengths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

"I miss you," Newt says the moment Hermann picks up, making a show of working 'puppy-dog' eyes and the cherub-like face he still refuses to acknowledge he has, because he's ‘not one of those fat little baby angels, Hermann’, he's ‘sexy.'  
  
"Newton-" Hermann sighs with a tired look on his face. They have afterall only a short while ago said their goodbyes so the younger boy could travel through security. He has only a matter of minutes before they'll call for them to board. But there's an earnestness in the large green eyes that stare back at him from the screen of his phone. Something in them he will have to get better about saying no to, or he stands to be in danger of losing himself and all he has to this boy. Some less rational, more romantic and ridiculous part of him, isn't entirely convinced he should regret such an outcome. "I miss you too," he admits finally with a long exhale. The smile it brings to Newt's face is entirely worth the slight chuckle from Bastien who sits behind him as they drive back to Karla's, and his elder sister's appreciative but entirely silly _'aww'_ of admiration. "Text me when you land," Hermann asks softly, which is as good a confirmation as any he meant his earlier words.  
  
"Of course, Herms," Newt nods smiling.  
  
"I'll call you tomorrow," Hermann promises with a slight smile turning up at the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Have fun with Karla and Bastien," Newt smiles. The words are right there on the tip of his tongue. They've only just acknowledged mutual feelings for each other and actually agreed to start dating, but they've been friends- probably been dancing around each other about this- for months. Would it really be so bad if he let them slip? He bites he inside of his cheek. He's always been impulsive, overeager, but he's not going to let himself screw things up this time. Not if he can help it. Besides, he reasons, fingertips caressing the other boy's face on his phone's screen. The first time he says it- he'll tell Hermann in person. "I'll see you in a few weeks," Newt says instead. "Expect kisses," he adds, because Hermann had seemed to enjoy that as much as he had, at least. The resulting blush the words earn him, and the way Hermann's eyes glaze ever so slightly, like he too is replaying some of the ones they have shared, is absolutely worth it.  
  
...  
  
"Liebling, they'd be bored to tears," Hermann replies patiently, shaking his head.  
  
"No, they wouldn't," Newt protests.  
  
"You really think the people that tune in to listen to the music you play would want to hear me prattle on about my algorithms for future generations of Jaegers and predictive models for Kaiju attacks?"  
  
"Maybe," Newt insists, though even he doesn't seem terribly convinced. "But forget about them for a second, and just think about it. It wouldn't be just my normal listeners. We could advertise across campus, off-campus, even. And after Hong Kong... people could use some good news, some hope. And-" he hesitates, biting his lip for a moment, considering whether even to mention it, though Hermann knows where this is going before the other even opens his mouth.  
  
"With my father and Deterich trying to back the Wall," Hermann supplies for him with a frown.  
  
"Herms," Newt replies softly with a sympathetic frown. "You're brilliant. Your ideas are going to change the world. They're going to save so many lives. The Jaeger program is so much more than flashy fighting monsters Nerds like me used to dream about. They're the answer. And you're the answer for making them even better. For helping us win this. Everybody knows Lars, but the world deserves to meet Hermann Gottlieb."  
  
"You really mean that," Hermann marvels softly. Some part of him is aware, of course, that this is what friends- and now boyfriends, he amends thoughtfully- are supposed to do. To believe in and encourage each other. But years of pushing forward, of fighting against his father and other's expectations of him, against his own body, had been born more out of spite than actual self-confidence.  
  
"Of course, I do," Newt replies nodding, without a moment's hesitation. "Look," he continues patiently. "I know giving that speech at the little PPDC dinner a while back had you feeling nervous, but that turned out okay, didn't it? And this is just radio. Nobody staring at you, this time. Just you and me in a room with a couple of mics," the younger boy shrugs. "We have some time before term starts back up again. Just- promise me you'll at least think about it?"  
  
"Okay," Hermann nods, drawing a deep, slow, and steadying breath. "I'll do it," he nods.  
  
"Really? You will? I- I didn't pressure you too much did I," Newt asks suddenly concerned. "I'm not going to break up with you or anything if you don't want to- I just thought that-"  
  
"Schatz," Hermann interrupts, waiting as Newt calms and falls silent, waiting for him. "Breathe," he reminds him patiently with a small, fond smile. "You didn't pressure me," the older boy promises. "You're right. It's a good idea. And I'll be fine. I'll be with you, right," the older boy smiles patiently.  
  
"Yeah," Newt nods. "We can practice a little beforehand too if you'd like."  
  
"Sure," Hermann agrees. It can't hurt to be prepared.  
  
"Awesome," Newt grins. "Hey, I finished the sketch."  
  
"For Reckoner?"  
  
"Yeah. You wanna see it," Newt asks excitedly riffling through the papers on his desk for a moment when the other nods, before holding up a drawing of the latest Kaiju. Hermann's not an artist, he's also nothing like the Kaijus enthusiast that Newt is. It's good from an objective perspective as sketches go, but he's not sure how to communicate as much without it seeming to fall short of the necessary enthusiasm, and the last thing he wants is for Newton to think he doesn't care.  
  
"Where are you thinking of putting it," Hermann asks instead. Newt seems to understand, or at least is sufficiently distracted enough by his new query to ignore Hermann’s inability to properly critique the drawing.    
  
Newt pulls his shirt over his head, while going on about maybe getting some more patterning done on his legs while he's under the needle again, and Hermann's mouth goes dry. It's not the first time he's seen the younger boy shirtless, of course, but up to now it's always been fleeting and consisted of stolen glances. All such instances had happened before either of them had admitted an attraction to one another. As a result, he'd never felt that he actually should or was allowed to look much. It's distinctly unfair, he thinks, that he should be able to do so now, but be too far away to touch.  
  
"I was thinking maybe right here," Newt continues, un-phased and unaware of the effect he's had on the other boy as he reaches up and traces the area around his collarbone a few inches above the tattoos that adorn his lower torso. Hermann swallows hard, trying to shake himself free of his daze, to come up with something intelligent to say, or any response at all, but he can't seem to think of anything besides kissing and worrying, and marking that spot of yet unblemished skin for himself- as his own.  
  
"Herms," Newt asks uncertainly after a moment or two of silence passes between them. It's harder to tell from a flat image on a laptop screen where exactly the older boy is staring. He's tracing his tattoos with his eyes, the way his fingers have often done with the ones on his arms, that much Newt can tell, but the silence unnerves him. He can feel anxiety and self-doubt creeping in. He hadn't really given much thought to taking his shirt off, now he's becoming acutely aware of every imperfection he does his best to avoid thinking about. Chief among them the way his belly is currently hanging so much over his sweatpants, slightly distended from a large and recent meal. He shifts a little in his chair to change the angle of his laptop's camera and brings his arms up, crossing them in front of his belly as he tries his best to suck it in a little.  
  
"Don't," Hermann says, finally finding his voice again, and frowning softly as he shakes his head. "Don't do that," he pleads, wishing more than anything he could transport himself somehow across their computer screens- to be there, to hold him, touch him, whisper praise and sweet things in his ear until he can push back all the negative voices in his head. "Du bist schön," Hermann whispers, making sure Newt is looking at him as he speaks so he knows the older boy means it. "Bitte versteck dich nicht vor mir, Mein Schatz."  
  
Newt bites his lip again and seems to consider this for a moment, before slowly lowering his arms. His shoulders haven't relaxed yet, but it's a start. Hermann will take what he can get for now, and with any luck make up for it when he returns to campus for the new term. "Perfekt," he assesses with a tender smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to his screen. It's woefully inadequate, of course, and Newt probably still doesn't entirely believe him, but the younger boy smiles, blushes a little, blowing a kiss back to him, and keeps his shirt off for the rest of the call.  
  
...  
  
Hermann Gottlieb is not the sort of boy to watch romance or romantic comedies. He wouldn't likely be familiar with any of them were it not for growing up with an elder sister, and wouldn't have seen films of any genre at all recently were it not for Newton's insistence and influence. There are far more important demands on his time. Still, the rock he is often teased for living under notwithstanding, Hermann is vaguely aware somewhere in the back of his busy mind of some of the more popular narrative tropes. Meeting ones lover in the airport just outside the terminal being one of them. Though he's well aware he doesn't look anything like a leading man for such a role.  
  
Hermann has traveled a number of times before for various reasons, but he's never really paid much mind to the people around him before, save to avoid being bumped into or trampled. It's- well it's still cliche and a maybe a little bit cheesy, but Hermann can sort of see the appeal a little better than he used to be able to. To be fair, though, he's never had anyone waiting for him after his plane lands before- lover or otherwise- besides Karla or Bastien.  
  
Newton isn't holding any manner of sign, but, true to his promise during one of their last Skype calls, has made sure Hermann can't possibly miss him. The younger boy stands out, seeming an almost riot, but welcome splash of color against the sea of pea green, beige, and black coats bracing themselves against the Boston winter cold in his favorite bright crimson MIT sweatshirt, with the sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos, black skinny jeans Hermann cannot help but to admire and wonder just how he got into, and bright red sneakers. The younger boy might very have simply picked up the first colorful thing he could find on his floor or in the closet before heading out to meet his plane, indeed his tousled hair and the disposable coffee cups in each hand seems to support this theory, but his boyfriend waiting at the bottom of the escalator is a welcome sight all the same.  
  
His boyfriend, Hermann thinks, marveling a little over the novelty of it with a smile. He has a boyfriend. That fact alone is more than he had dared hope for in years. And that his boyfriend should be none other than Newton Geiszler? The older boy spares a moment to pinch himself as he rides the escalator down to meet the now grinning younger boy. He's grinning himself, he realizes as Newt reaches him, one hand reaching up to cup his cheek as if to make sure he's really and finally there.  
  
"Hi," Newt says softly, blushing a little in a way that's rather uncharacteristically shy of him. Newton is a very affectionate and physical sort of person, but they've never shared anything like this before, not like this, at least. Not when it wasn't a show, not with each of them aware there are romantic feelings on both sides. Wide green eyes stare up at him questioningly; silently asking permission, even less than 24 hours since their last Skype call making sure the older boy hasn't changed his mind about this. Hermann smiles because he can hardly help but to.  
  
"Hello Mein Schatz," he greets warmly. Hermann doesn't know terribly much about relationships, but he thinks he's at least got a working understanding of Newton, and indeed, this seems to be the proper or at least an acceptable response, as a moment later Newt is throwing his arms around him and pulling him into an enthusiastic kiss.  
  
"Hungry," Newt asks when the pair of them finally pull apart, aware of the audience of passersby and that Hermann still needs to collect his luggage.  
  
"I could eat."  
  
"Great, I'm starved," Newt replies with a grin, grabbing Hermann's bag when it passes by in front of them. Hermann doesn't ask how long Newton has been waiting for his plane to arrive, so Newt doesn't tell him it's been hours. Hermann suspects as much, and Newt knows he probably knows anyway, but he was excited.  Hermann doesn't always understand why or some of the things Newt gets excited about, but Hermann generally seems to appreciate his enthusiasm and no longer criticizes him, even jokingly, when he borders on ridiculousness.  
  
Hermann smiles watching the younger boy dragging his bag in one hand, a firm grasp on Hermann's hand with the other as they make their way through the crowd and out to his waiting car to find some place to eat. The truth, though, Hermann isn't yet brave enough to say so, is that he rather envies Newton's enthusiasm at times. He's unapologetic, unrepentant about the things he loves, which is not a concept with which Hermann is unfamiliar, but where he would rather hole in with his passions, hoard and zealously guard them like some kind of dragon with his treasure, Newton is crowing about them from the mountain tops. He revels not just in the discovery or the things themselves, but in sharing them with others. Newt had difficulties of his own growing up, of course, and it doesn't do to wallow in feeling sorry for himself, but now and then there's a fleeting thought to wonder how his earlier years might have been different, whether he might have had more friends, if he could have been more like that.  
  
……………………  
  
Hermann watches fascinated as Iris readies her paints and gun and Newt stretches out in an almost feline-like manner, before laying out comfortably on the small horizontally positioned chair for her to do her work. He looks utterly at ease, completely trusting this young woman to fulfill the vision of his sketch, to see it realized and join the others- permanently commemorated and immortalized on his skin. He would be a nervous wreck. He is a nervous wreck, which is utterly ridiculous, of course, as Newton has obviously done this countless time before, most of them with Iris, herself since first meeting and employing her artistic services.  
  
Still, Hermann pulls up the chair that she brought out for him, taking a seat beside the table, Newt grinning back at him as he does, before offering a hand for the older boy to take. He does, though, it occurs to Hermann that Newt has done this several times before, and perhaps without anyone else for... emotional support, so Newt may, in fact, be offering the hand more for his benefit than his own. He appreciates it anyway, lacing their fingers together and giving them a gentle squeeze as the tattoo gun whirs to life and slowly lowers towards a yet unblemished patch of skin on the other boy's upper thigh, trying hard to keep his gaze and his thoughts chaste. The shorts, if one could call the little material there was to the article of clothing Newt decided to wear that, do not make the older boy's task an easy one.  
  
…  
  
"... Annnd we're back once again with one of MIT's own scientific rockstars, Hermann Gottlieb, who's going to change the world and the way the Jaegers kick some Kaiju as- uh, tail," Newt corrects with a slight chuckle, grinning as he shrugs at the amused smile on the older boy beside him.  
  
"So, Hermann," Newt continues. "You've talked about your programs and some of the things you'd like to see for the future. How about giving the audience a little something about the man behind it all?"  
  
"What do you have in mind," Hermann asks, raising an eyebrow. Their time's nearly up, and though Newt warned him he'd ad-lib where necessary to round out the hour, this isn't one of the questions Hermann had really been expecting, though. Truth be told the older boy isn't really sure why anyone besides Newt should care much about the man behind the curtain.  
  
"I don't know, dude. Whatever you like. We are a radio station. How about what sort of music you like."  
  
"Rap and Hip-Hop," Hermann replies without pause or a hint of irony, and Newt seems to freeze for a moment, before chuckling softly shaking his head. Yeah, in all his months of trying, he would never have guessed that. Well, maybe, but only after eliminating pretty much every other genre.  
  
"No joke? Like what?"  
  
"Well, I guess more of the old school stuff, if I'm being honest. Nothing too demeaning like some of the rap you hear these days," Hermann amends thoughtfully. "But," he shrugs. "I like the structure of a song with a good beat and a decent rhyme or rhythm. I've always liked spoken poetry, beatboxing and that sort of thing for similar reasons."  
  
"Beatboxing?" Newt repeats, managing to sound curious for his listeners while looking completely flabbergasted. Hermann's rather enjoying the way the other boy looks as though you could blow him over with a feather. _Serves him right,_ he thinks, for putting him on the spot like that.  
  
"I've dabbled," Hermann admits with another shrug, blushing a little at the tips of his ears when the younger boy continues to stare at him.  
  
"Okay, well now you _have_ to give us a little something," Newt grins as he finally pulls himself together, once again turning the tables on Hermann, who pales a little, glaring at the younger boy, though he supposes he did bring this on himself, before gently taking his mic from the stand and standing up to bounce a little on his feet while he provides a demonstration.  
  
He keeps his eyes closed through most of it, focused entirely on what he's doing and misses the way Newt stares utterly transfixed and in awe of the elder boy in front of him. Suddenly Newt understands just a little of what Hermann had felt finding out about him and the Black Velvet Rabbits, feeling like there's perhaps a whole other side to Hermann he's yet to meet. It's frustrating and fascinating in equal measure. More the latter, truthfully, but that probably comes with his personality as much as being a scientist and naturally curious. Watching Hermann completely immersed in his craft, though, any previous doubts or inhibitions nowhere in sight? It's actually pretty fucking hot.  
  
He wraps it up, and Newt signs them both off before queuing up a few more songs to stall out until the next DJ shows up for his set, before he pounces, knocking over his chair in his enthusiasm to get to Hermann yesterday, and crushing his lips against his, shoving him back against the wall as forcefully as he can while still minding the older boy's smaller, more fragile body. Hermann's hands run all over him, grabbing and squeezing appreciatively at his love handles and in places Newt would never have thought of as sexy, returning hot, slightly sloppy kisses with a soft moan that shoots straight to Newt's groin.  
  
"Du wirst der Tod von mir sein," Newt pants with a soft chuckle.  
  
"Nicht wenn du mich zuerst tödest," Hermann returns breathlessly, shaking his head, before returning to plunder his mouth once more, long fingers palming their way down his sides, teasing his legs, before pausing a moment as the material of his clothes bunches up more than he'd been expecting.  
  
"What? Oh. Oh, shit. Umm..." Newt freezes going wide-eyed, torn between the desire to continue what they had been doing, and the embarrassment and desire to flee that's suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. "It's uh- it's a-"  
  
"It's a skirt," Hermann supplies for him, slowly letting the fabric that he's bunched in his hands to, watching as it falls back down to the other boy's legs. _Nice legs_ , Hermann thinks admiringly, not for the first time this week. He'd joined Newt in the studio just after getting out of one of his classes, and from behind the table, mistaken his attire for board shorts or something similar. Newt has started babbling, clearly waiting for Hermann to either be disgusted or make fun of him for it.  
  
"-Well you were with me the other day," he continues quickly, with a helpless shrug. "I've still got to keep up the lotion and bandages for another day or two, and they itch like mad when they rub up against clothes, so... I borrowed it."  
  
"Borrowed it," Hermann repeats skeptically, inspecting the skirt a bit more carefully now. A mid-length, cotton and probably polyester blended thing just a few shades lighter than 'Kaiju Blue', that actually looks pretty comfortable. It also looks suspiciously like a perfect fit.  
  
"From an old girlfriend," Newt supplies hastily, completely unconvincing, as the older boy raises an eyebrow. He's only met the one, of course, but it certainly wouldn't fit Erika. "Alright," Newt deflates. "It's mine," he admits. "I- I'm not confused. I don't- want to be a woman or change my parts or anything- not that there's anything wrong with that," he adds hastily. "Sometimes I just..." he trails off as he blushes a little more, pointedly avoiding Hermann's gaze now. "Want to wear something-  a little more feminine. To wear and be something pretty," the younger boy confesses.  
  
"I- I don't have to when you're around if it bothers you," Newt adds quieter still.  
  
"No," Hermann replies, a bit more forcefully than he actually means to, but earning him the unintended effect of the other's gaze coming back up to meet his once more. "Don't change, Liebling. Not ever. Not because of me," Hermann says in a gentler, what he hopes is more soothing tone.  
  
"Anyway, you don't look pretty in this," he continues, gesturing towards the skirt, as a shadow and frown quickly fall across Newt's face. Hermann reaches out taking the other boy's chin between his fingers, raising it a little to be certain green eyes are meeting his brown ones as he speaks. "Du siehst strahlend aus," Hermann promises, swooping in for another kiss before Newt can protest.  
  
Newt goes a bit slack against him, the coiled up tension, fear, and anxiety within him slowly easing with the older boy's words and every touch.  
  
"You really think so?"  
  
"Yes," Hermann nods with all the certainty he usually saves for his numbers. "Yes, I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Liebling_ (Darling/Sweetheart)  
>  _Schatz/mein schatz_ (Treasure/My Treasure)  
>  _Du bist schön_ (You are beautiful)  
>  _Bitte versteck dich nicht vor mir, mein schatz._ (Please do not hide from me, my Treasure.)  
>  _Perfekt_ (Perfect)  
>  _Du wirst der Tod von mir sein_ (You will be the death of me)  
>  _Nicht wenn du mich zuerst tödest_ (Not if you kill me first)  
>  _Du siehst strahlend aus_ (You look radiant)


	21. Conductivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

“You’re kidding,” Newt blurts out awed. “Hermann, that’s incredible, what the hell is the likes of Stacker Pentecost doing listening to our crappy little radio station for?”

Hermann snorts softly, shaking his head with an amused smile because of course that would be the first thing that Newton would be thinking about with the news that he’s just delivered him. He seems to realize as much a moment later when he’s finally looking at Hermann and lost most of that far away, starry look in his eyes. “So the Jager Academy, huh,” he asks with a smile. That’s-- that’s really great Herms. Better than. This is what you dreamed about, right? All your hard work finally paid off. About time someone else took notice of how brilliant you are,” the younger man praises.

Hermann does his very best not to blush, but he can feel the warmth just there at the back of his neck, even if he’s prevented it from entirely reaching his cheeks. Newt is nothing if not enthusiastic, whatever he does it is never in halves; he doesn’t seem to know how to be anything less than at least 100% committed to something once he’s taken it on. His praise is no exception, it might be a bit generous, but Hermann knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it isn’t just flattery for flattery’s sake. Newton truly believes and means every word, which makes the task of fighting to tamp down the rush of warmth that thought fills him with that much more difficult. He nods a small rueful sort of smile at the corners of his mouth, not as certain, or perhaps not as impulsive as his companion to speak yet. He’s not sure what to say. Or where to start, there is an overwhelming sense that there is too much to say, and not nearly enough time to get it all out in.

“When do you have to leave,” Newt asks, his voice a little bit softer now, perhaps finally realizing the significance and weight of it all in a way Hermann wishes he could do anything to stop, or at the very least slow down. There’s a hint of pain shining in his eyes that can’t be entirely concealed with his smile at the thought of Hermann leaving, at him being left behind.

The younger boy does his best to keep his breathing from becoming too shallow, but something tightens uncomfortably in his chest as he stares at the older boy taking this new information in and trying to adjust. He wants to be happy for him. He _is_ happy for him. And, of course, he knew that this might happen- that it would happen eventually that someone would see Hermann for how brilliant he is and how useful he might be. That he couldn’t keep him forever. He just didn’t count on having to give him up so soon. How could he, when they had just gotten it together and finally admitted what it seems both of them have been dancing around since nearly the beginning? Why did he waste so much time? Why did he wait? Why didn’t he say something the moment he met him at the airport? The other day after the radio interview? Last night when they’d cuddled together his laptop across their laps only pretending to watch an otherwise completely forgettable movie? And how can he tell him _now_ , he thinks, feeling slightly sick.

“Next Friday,” Hermann replies softly, frowning.

 _Oh Gott_ , Newt thinks. _Now_ he most definitely feels sick. And like crying. Probably both. He will do neither. Not right now, at least. He will bottle it up, keep a lid on it for as long as he possibly can while the other is around because this is great news for Hermann. Because he won’t manipulate the older boy that way, not even accidentally. _He won’t._ Newt doesn’t have any delusions about how easily he gets attached to the people around him, particularly those that show an interest or are kind to him, but cliche as it sounds and Hermann would no doubt find it if he were to say so, Hermann is different. And as such, Newt can’t simply treat this- treat Hermann- the same way he has done with his past relationships. He loves him, even if Newt can’t possibly say so now without it feeling like he’s trying to hold the other back from this incredible opportunity. So he has to love him enough to let him go, even if it kills him.

“Hey now,” Newt whispers sitting up a little and scooting closer, grasping his hands and threading his fingers through his as he catches onto Hermann’s own maudlin expression and thoughts. “This is fantastic. Really! We have to celebrate. We could throw you a party and--”

“Newton,” Hermann interrupts with a squeeze of the other man’s hand. “The Math’s department is already organizing a dinner.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay we--” the younger man begins, before recognizing Hermann still has more to say, and cutting himself short, nodding for him to continue.

“I’d rather celebrate just us, by spending the rest of my time with you,” Hermann admits with the first small, slightly hopeful smile since he’s opened the letter.

“Oh,” Newt blinks a little in surprise. Hermann has long since come to think of the other man’s eyes as something of a Kaleidoscope, not for their color so much as the emotions that swirl around in them. He’s familiar with the expression of wearing one’s heart on one's sleeve, but Newt’s sleeves- his interwoven tattoos- are his history. His heart and his present are in his eyes. Hermann won’t pretend he’s anything like an expert on the matter, but he thinks just maybe he’s gotten better at being able to read them over the last year. There’s hope in them now, but faint, fragile, quivering; only visible if you know what you are looking for, as doubt and fear threaten to overwhelm and extinguish it. Hermann lifts the hand that’s still laced in Newton’s never leaving his gaze as he draws it up to his lips and kisses the back of it tenderly.

“Oh,” Newt repeats breathlessly with sudden understanding. And just like that that spark of hope catches, ignites, and starts to burn out all of his uncertainty, his eyes shine now. “Yeah,” he asks sitting up a little straighter, worrying his bottom lip a little to hold back what can only be a brilliant smile.

“Yes,” Hermann nods, smiling softly, his free hand drifting up to cup Newt’s jaw before leaning in to offer up a proper kiss this time.

“I’d like that,” Newt whispers with a relieved and delighted smile when the two of them finally pull apart, as if that wasn’t perfectly clear by now, earning a soft chuckle from the older boy.

Newton being the near consummate ball of energy that he is, however, it doesn’t take long before he starts to become restless with the idea of nothing more on the agenda than simply spending Hermann’s last few days together with nothing planned. Hermann wants to tell him it doesn’t matter, that it is enough for him just to be able to cherish the time he has left before he ships out; that Newton is enough, but he knows better than to think the other boy will believe him, and even if he did it wouldn’t completely rid him of his restlessness or manic energy. He’ll take it though: Newt’s frenzy. He just wishes he wasn't leaving him behind, he worries about how Newt will hold up when he inevitably comes back down again.

Newt knows Hermann doesn’t want to have a party, which is probably just as well because the younger boy isn’t really certain who he should include on an invite list for him anyway, but it doesn't seem right somehow doing the same sorts of things they were doing together a week ago. They should be doing something to mark the occasion and celebrate, even if it’s just the two of them, shouldn’t they? He wants to make Hermanns last few days in Boston- and by extension with him- awesome, _unforgettable_. He’s happy for Hermann. Really, he is. He wants him to be happy, successful in the Academy, but he’s still a bit selfish too. He’s fighting every fiber within himself, every natural instinct that begs he not make it too easy for the older boy to leave, or worse still forget about him. Still, there has to be a happy medium, right? Some middle ground between manipulating the older boy’s emotions in a bid to make him stay or feel guilty about leaving, and wanting to make the most of the time the two of them have left with one another? But Hermann is being distinctly unhelpful with providing any sort of insight into his bucket list, or providing any feedback for his suggestions.

“I just-” Newt tries frustratedly, shaking his head when Hermann shoots down yet another of his ideas. “I just want to be able to do something with you that you’ve never done before,” he admits softly with a rather defeated sigh, and however much that Hermann might like the idea of keeping everything low-key and sticking with what is familiar, some peace before delving into his vigorous training at the Academy, he can't deny Newt anything.

“A date,” Hermann replies finally. “I’d like to go on a date with you,” he says with a hint of a smile. “I want to go out to dinner somewhere nice, and afterward do something stupid and cliche like most couples do that has nothing to do with Kaiju or Jagers,” Hermann continues. “Maybe pretend we’re tourists. I want a night about us.”

“A date,” Newt repeats with a soft laugh, because, _yeah that sounds wonderful, and why the hell didn’t he think of that?_ But they hadn’t really talked about, or bothered to classify what exactly they are to one another since Hermann got his letter. Newt hadn’t wanted to assume he’d hoped, of course, probably wished harder for it than he can remember doing anything else in his life that this new and fragile thing between them might somehow survive it. He knows, of course, how difficult a long-distance relationship can be for one or both parties, but the thought that _Hermann Gottlieb_ wants a date with him before she ships out… that maybe Hermann might want something more than just kissing or messing around, maybe even something to continue after he leaves is nothing short of thrilling. “Yeah, we can _definitely_ do that,” Newt nods gratefully, pulling Hermann in for a fierce and hungry kiss.

“You know, you’re a surprisingly sappy romantic for being hellbent on this whole grumpy old mathematician image you have going on,” Newt whispers softly with a little smile at the corner of his mouth. Hermann chuckles, but doesn’t bother contesting the accusation.

“Nobody will believe you,” he replies with a smirk of his own.

“And an asshole,” Newt adds, but he’s still smiling.

“ That, they’d probably believe,” Hermann nods as they both dissolve into much-needed laughter in one another’s arms.

 

* * *

 

“Newton,” Hermann ventures cautiously when the younger boy answers the door to his room, with an only half-hearted smile. “Is this a bad time? A bad day,” the older boy asks concerned. “We could go out another night,” Hermann offers patiently.

“No,” the younger boy replies immediately, shaking his head. _We can’t cancel_ , Newt thinks panicked. _I made plans. Besides, we only have a few days_. “I’m-- well, I’ll be fine,” he promises quickly.

“Sprich mit mir, Liebling,” Hermann whispers softly, cutting Newt off before he can start dissolving into his usual habit of babbling when he’s nervous or anxious like this. “Whats wrong? What do you need? Is there anything I can do to help?” Newt frowns, biting his lip, seeming to consider this for a minute, before letting loose a heavy sigh, shrugging and gesturing towards his clothes.

“This is the fifth thing I’ve tried on, but it’s still not right,” Newt says finally, exasperated. “And you look terrific,” the younger boy continues, eyeing Hermann appreciatively. Admittedly, it’s still what Newt would consider a rather ridiculous number of layers, but he knows Hermann is a little self-conscious of his scrawnier build, even if he’d never admit as much. He has, however, clearly made an attempt to dress up for their ‘date’ together, and even chosen some clothes more appropriate for his actual age than the ‘grandfatherly professor’ clothes he usually wears. There’s a black undershirt beneath a plum colored polo he’s actually left the buttons undone, complete with a dark pair of jeans he's positive is Karla’s influence, recalling Hermann mentioning something during one of their Skype calls about his sister taking him shopping for some new clothes. He’ll have to remember to thank her, he thinks appreciatively before his anxiety about his own attire and appearance return in full swing.

“You look handsome to me,” Hermann replies supportively with a small smile, fighting down a blush at the other boy’s compliment, trying to stay focused on the matter at hand. This, however, seems to be the wrong thing to say, as Newt’s frown only deepens, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Schatz?” Tears Newt has been doing his best to fight since the other boy’s arrival finally win out. “Not handsome,” Hermann mutters softly, assessing the situation and the younger boy in front of him with greater care. “Beautiful,” he tries softly. Newt sniffs, before nodding reluctantly. “I’m sorry,” the older boy apologizes gently. “For what it’s worth, I always think you look beautiful regardless of what you’re wearing.” Newton doesn’t look up, but Hermann can tell he doesn’t believe him, not yet.

“You asked for a date,” Newt groans, shaking his head. “A night to be and do things like normal people do. And I had everything all planned out, but nothing I’ve put on- none of it feels right today. It’s just one day, a couple hours… I should be able to- and I can’t even do that right.”

“Right,” Hermann repeats slowly with a nod, considering. “Well that’s just not going to work, is it?” Newt frowns shaking his head, still not looking up at him. “See, call me selfish, but I would much prefer my date paying attention to me and enjoying our date, not worrying about feeling out of sync with his body.” Newt nods, another big fat tear rolling down his cheek. It was foolish to think that this could ever work. That Hermann would deem him worth the extra effort when so many before had not. Still, he’d really hoped to somehow keep it together at least until the other leaves for the Academy. Not even one date, he thinks defeatedly. Green eyes finally pull themselves back up to meet the older boy’s when he realizes Hermann is waiting for a response to a question in his anxiousness and despondency he’s completely missed hearing.

“Sorry?”

“Do you think you can stand wearing what you have on now until we get back to my room,” Hermann repeats patiently. “My roommate is out for the night,” he reassures the younger boy quickly.

Newt bites his lip. He could. He must. If Hermann is willing to try to salvage this trainwreck, he’d be stupid to throw his second chance away, wouldn’t he? Maybe, if he’s lucky once he gets out, he’ll find enough distraction to make it through an evening with the other boy at least. He nods. “But I made us dinner reservations,” he squeaks softly.

“What time?”

“Seven,” Newt replies.

“We can still go,” Hermann nods after consulting with his watch. “If you want to,” he adds thoughtfully. “Not like this, though. But I think I have something for it.”

Newt doesn’t pretend to understand what the older boy might mean. He can’t imagine what Hermann may have in mind for fixing all of this, but as a friend Hermann has been everything that he could possibly have hoped for, so giving him the benefit of the doubt and a chance to prove himself here as his… boyfriend? …his date? Well, it seems only fair.

“Alright,” Newt exhales with a nod, collecting himself. “Let’s go.”

They could make faster time getting to the other boy’s room, but Newt can’t bring himself to mention as much to the other boy who gently wraps his free arm around his shoulders as soon as they’ve left the Newt’s room. Despite their very public kiss at the staff and faculty Christmas party a month ago, Hermann isn’t really one who’s particularly fond of public displays of affection. The idea of kissing in front of any sort of audience makes him a bit nervous. But Hermann always somehow manages to find his own quieter, unassuming ways of reassuring the far more demonstrative younger boy how much he cares about him. Simple gestures like this, of touch and a different kind of intimacy than Newt has ever had with anyone before. Hermann doesn’t have much time or patience for gossip, but he doesn’t seem to care if anyone seeing the two of them like this generates any. Or doesn’t care enough to stop, anyway, he walks with him, an arm around him, meets the gaze of anyone that passes them unconcerned, like he might just be proud to be seen with the younger boy, and that’s… Well, it’s ridiculous isn’t it, because Newt’s smart sure, but none of these people would know anything about his studies and the possible applications of his regenerative tissue research. They can’t or won’t see passed an eccentric, slightly manic, tattooed kid. Hermann, though? He’s a little abrasive at times, but _everybody_ knows how gifted he is, and Newt is obviously biased on the matter, but- he’s gorgeous. He is the one that should be proud. The idea that Hermann might be, particularly on a day such as this one when he couldn’t feel less put together or appealing is rather baffling. Newt is grateful for it all the same, though, carefully leaning into the other without burdening him with too much of his weight and wrapping his own arm around Hermann’s waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sprich mit mir, Liebling_ (Speak to me, Darling)


	22. Attachment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

_I- but you- what? And when..._ Newt thinks wide-eyed, mind racing, staring at the older boy and his offering in disbelief. _Say something,_ he thinks, internally kicking himself as he distantly registers Hermann asking whether or not what he's produced for him will do. _Will it do?_ Hermann Gottlieb has bought him a dress. _A goddamn dress!_ It’s not the first gift that the older boy has given him, of course, but this marks the first since the two of them finally owned up to their feelings for one another. It’s the first anyone has ever bought him something so distinctly feminine. This, Newt thinks, couldn’t be a more clear gesture of support and acceptance of the more queer/fluid side of himself, of everything he’s long since stopped expecting or hoping for in any of his partners, and _that?_ Yes, that will definitely fucking do. He’d wear the damn thing even if it were adorned with that same hideous pattern on Hermann’s favorite and very worn out sweater vest. It isn’t, thank Gott. The dress is, in fact, nearly as stunning as the gesture itself.

Newt stares at the garment in disbelief as he slowly begins cataloging it in detail. It looks like it will actually fit, and fit him well, which is enough of an achievement in and of itself. How Hermann managed to know his size so well, even his style somehow despite never really seeing him on an especially femme day before… the top of the gown which scoops down into a small squared off neck is decorated in finely detailed lace flowers. Daisies he thinks, although he's hardly any expert in that particular field, the midsection is divided by a large ribbon belt before it trails off into various tints and transparent layers of tulle with a silky underskirt beneath. And all of it a creamy colored pink that looks soft, delicate, beautiful… everything Newt has felt and wanted today, but couldn't seem to find with his own closet. Why did women’s clothes have to be so damned expensive and so hard to shop for in larger sizes?

There's a sickening drop that occurs in Newt’s stomach after that thought. _Just how much did this cost? What did Hermann spend on him to get this? And how is he ever going to repay him?_

“Schatz,” Hermann tries again uncertainly with the slightest hint of a frown, attempting to get his attention once more. “I thought you might-” he begins before cutting himself off and starting again. “Es ist in Ordnung, wenn es dir nicht gefällt,” he promises softly. “Du wirst meine Gefühle nicht verletzen. We can take it back and you can pick something--” But the rest of the thought is cut off as Newt flings himself tearfully at the other boy, careful only so as not to bowl him over or hurt him as his lips crash against Hermann’s.

“Else,” Hermann finishes a bit breathlessly with a small twitch of a smile at the corners of his mouth when the pair of them finally break apart. “Du magst es, mein Schatz?”

“Ich liebe es, Bärchen,” Newt confirms happily with a soft sniff. _I love you_ , he thinks as watery green eyes lift to meet warm chocolate ones. _Damnit, get a grip,_ the younger boy scolds himself. First, he’d been crying because he was miserable, now he is because he’s happy, and he’s just a hot fucking mess, isn’t he? How does someone like Hermann, this wonderful and absolutely incredible boy even put up with him?

“Du siehst wunderschön aus,” Hermann breathes, awe-struck as Newt steps out of the bathroom a short while later. Newt is all too aware of the blush that quickly overtakes his face as he ducks his head, managing a soft ‘Danke,’ before the pair of them begin making their way out to Newt’s car.

He’s cleaned it out since the last time Hermann rode in it. Alright, so he’d bagged most of what hadn’t been actual garbage and simply tucked it away in the closet in his room, but you can see the floor is the point. Silly, he supposes, given the older boy is already aware of his sometimes slovenly habits, but the solemnity of the occasion seemed to call for it. His first real date with Hermann, Newt thinks, trying to keep control of his feelings and anxiety, letting up a little with his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

“Newt,” Hermann whispers softly, one hand hesitating as it hovers over his leg. He waits for the younger boy to notice it, for Newt’s small nod, before placing it carefully over his knee with a gentle reassuring squeeze. “Geht es dir gut,” he inquires gently.

“Yeah,” Newt nods, swallowing down the lump in his throat at Hermann’s attentive concern. “Yeah, I’m good,” he confirms, and for a moment, despite the looming threat of all of this coming to an end, it’s true.

 

* * *

 

“Liebling,” Hermann ventures cautiously, steps slow and as deliberate as they can be for not being able to see where exactly he is going.

“Almost there,” Newt promises, warm breath still smelling faintly of the sweet sake they shared over dinner brushing pleasantly against his neck as the younger boy keeps his hands over his eyes and guides him forward. “It’ll be worth it. -I hope.”

“Enspannen, Newton,” Hermann smiles softly, resisting the urge to shake his head and dislodge the other’s improvised blindfold and ruin whatever surprise the other has in mind for him. He doesn’t bother reminding him that he could simply keep his eyes closed, privately relishing any excuse for the warmth of the other’s touch. “It will be,” he assures him. “I’m with you.”

It’s surprisingly sappy, the words coming forth without much thought or a moment’s hesitation, but as soon as he’s said them, he knows it’s true. Newt laughs, but Hermann immediately recognizes it as the one he uses when he’s somehow managed to stumble upon doing or saying exactly the right thing to contradict those darker thoughts and inner-demons that he battles; the chuckle followed by a kiss to his neck so gentle and fleeting it’s gone before Hermann has entirely managed to process it.

“Okay,” Newt exhales, slowly retracting his hands, hesitating a moment before letting them slide down the older boy’s arms. Hermann catches them before he can pull them away, gently taking them in his own, guiding them to his hips. He can feel Newt’s surprise radiating off of him in waves, but he seems to take the hint, wrapping his arms and indeed as much of himself as he can around Hermann’s taller and lankier frame with a soft happy sigh. “You can open your eyes now,” he laughs softly against Hermann’s back, lifting his chin to rest on the other’s shoulder as he leans into him.

Hermann is almost reluctant to do so. It’d been, a little bit awkward-unnerving- at first, keeping his eyes closed on the drive from the restaurant, then allowing Newton to guide him through a series of doors, an elevator ride, and steps. It’s not the sort of trust exercise he’s ever done before or one he can imagine doing with anyone, except Newt it seems- a sentiment, which even the younger boy in question seems to have recognized, several times during their trek thanking him for being patient and trusting him. He does, Hermann realizes. Implicitly. Newt’s certainly not perfect. Far from it. But Hermann’s come to recognize, at least where he is concerned, Newton always means well enough.

The moment, Hermann thinks, carefully allowing himself to lean back into the other’s embrace, already feels so perfect, part of him worries opening his eyes might ruin it, but Newt has clearly put a lot of thought into this evening together, once he had finally expressed a desire for a date, an evening just about the two of them in the time they have left. Slowly, the older boy opens his eyes, blinking. There’s not much need to adjust actually, as the room isn’t actually very well lit, but the city below, night lights glimmering back at them from beyond the windows… it’s spectacular.

“I, um,” Newt stammers as Hermann’s jaw drops taking in the view with wide eyes. “It’s just that- well, I wasn’t sure what you might like. So, I thought-” he hems, even as Hermann reaches to clasp a hand over his. “I know it’s not the stars, but they said the view was pretty cool, and you said maybe we could do something touristy together, or something…”

Hermann spins in the younger boy’s arms as quickly as his leg will allow, gently reaching up and taking Newt’s face between his hands with an entirely fond smile the other won’t be able to miss, even in the dark. “Es ist perfekt, Liebling,” Hermann whispers softly, one hand sliding up to card long fingers between his purposefully mussed hair. “Perfekt,” he repeats, drawing the other into a long and tender kiss. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Newt smiles sheepishly, hands still resting comfortably on Hermann’s hips, as a thumb absently strokes back and forth across the fabric of his polo.

“Where are we,” Hermann asks thoughtfully, after the pair of them have settled themselves on the floor near one of the windows to admire the cityscape.

“Skywalk Observatory,” Newt replies. “There’s a tour and everything too, city history and all that, but would’ve been packed from what I read. Thought, maybe this would be better.”

“Where is everyone else?” Not that he isn’t grateful for the lack of a crowd pressing in or jostling them about, but there should be other people shouldn’t there? Staff at least?

“Technically they’re closed up for the day,” Newt admits shyly.

“We- Schatz... We didn’t break in, did we,” Hermann asks cautiously, side-eying his companion.

“Gott, what kind of person do you think I am,” Newt asks, laughing shaking his head, though Hermann can tell from the tone, the younger boy is only pretending to actually be offended by the accusation. “Alright, fair enough, I _might_ do something that crazy, but not this time, promise,” he swears, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. “I called in a favor.” Hermann nods, letting himself relax once more where he’s resting against Newt.

“I wouldn’t risk you having to run from the law.”

“Not with my legs,” Hermann replies with a chuckle, earning a light smack on the arm from the younger boy.

“Are you excited,” Newt asks after a few moments of silence staring out into the darkening sky.

“A little,” Hermann admits. He doesn’t need to ask what the other is referring to. Both all too aware of the clock counting down the time left until his departure.

“Scared?”

“Terrified,” Hermann admits, entirely truthfully, as Newt’s head whips around in surprise.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Of what?”

Of so many things, Hermann thinks with a frown as he looks into those precious and fathomless green eyes. Of what the strain of them being apart might mean- what it might do to them. Of just how much more difficult it will be to say goodbye now he’s come to realize just how much Newton means to him. Of telling Newton just how much he means to him. What if he doesn’t feel that yet? Of not telling him. Of another attack happening when the two of them are apart. Of failing everyone that has such high hopes for his new program and predictive models. What if they don’t work as they should?

“This is what you’ve always wanted. Isn’t it,” Newt asks softly, dragging him back from his thoughts.

“Yes,” Hermann replies inattentively. It was, he thinks, looking away as it suddenly becomes too much to meet the other boy’s gaze. But- well, it might not be what he wants now. Or not the only thing he wants anymore. He’d been thinking as much before, but then the letter had come and now… Now it feels as though everything he’s worked towards and hoped for is suddenly moving forward and he’s helpless to do anything but be swept along with it.

It’s remiss, Hermann thinks, that neither of them has discussed what they might want, how things will proceed with them from this point forward, but it seems neither of them has the inclination, or perhaps the courage to broach the subject first.

“It’ll be fine,” Newt whispers softly, drawing him into a warm hug. “Better than. You’re going to be brilliant,” the younger boy assures him. “Du bist schon.”

“Thank you, Newt.”

It’s so close. Right there on the tip of his tongue, Hermann thinks as he finally manages to look at him once more. At this incredible boy, who, Hermann knows all too well is on some level internally panicking about his imminent departure, but is taking the time to comfort and reassure him.

“We, uh,” Newt interjects into the extended silence that’s fallen between them. “We should probably head back soon, I guess. I mean, unless there was something else you might like to do tonight, while we’re here,” he adds hastily. “Sorry, I guess I should have planned more, but we got a late start with our classes and-” and my mini-breakdown, the younger boy thinks, hanging his head a little.

“Tonight was wonderful,” Hermann assesses, shaking his head, a steadying and comforting hand over Newt’s knee once more. A beat, and then- “But, there is one other thing,” the older boy admits softly, suddenly quite grateful for the darkness of the room for the flush that he feels rushing up the back of his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Name it,” Newt nods eagerly, seizing the suggestion before Hermann has even explained what it is. That implicit trust, it seems, that led Hermann to allow himself the awkward stumbling and indignity of being led here entirely without sight, is mutual.

“You said you wanted to do something with me I’d never done before,” Hermann reminds him. Newt nods again, already collecting their things for them, even as his gaze remains fixed on Hermann’s. It’s not escaped the older boy, what Newton’s logic might be for such an aspiration. It’s also occurred to Hermann this is probably- maybe- not what Newt had had in mind when he’d admitted as much. It is, however, something Hermann’s never done before. Never had the inclination to do before, in fact, but now, with Newton… And perhaps if he can’t bring himself to say what it is he feels…

“H-how would you feel about not going back tonight,” Hermann asks finally, biting his lip as Newt’s brows furrow in confusion. The older boy pulls his phone from the pocket at his hip, typing, and scrolling for a moment with his free hand, before passing it to Newt to examine. Wide green eyes shoot up from the phone, the reservation screen for a nice nearby hotel reflected across the lenses of his glasses as he stares open-mouthed.

“You-you're-” Newt stammers, heart hammering loudly against his ribs. “You mean-”

Slowly, Hermann lets the hand on the other’s knee slip a little farther up Newt’s leg, rescuing his bottom lip from his teeth, and nods.

“Bärchen,” Newt whispers reverently, and for perhaps the first time, Hermann begins to see the appeal of the nickname, or at least can appreciate it when Newton says it like that. “Hermann, bist du sicher?”

“Yes,” Hermann nods again, clearing his throat and the lump that seems to have formed in it waiting for the younger boy’s answer. “Yes,” he repeats. “I am. At least, if you are- I mean, if you would-”

Newt nods, green eyes watering as he breaks out into a brilliant smile, carefully setting Hermann’s phone on the floor, before diving to close the space between them, and smothering him with an enthusiastic kiss. “Dummkopf,” Newt huffs a laugh shaking his head as the pair of them pull apart. Hermann smiles softly. “Of course, I would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Es ist in Ordnung, wenn es dir nicht gefällt_ (It's okay if you don't like it)  
>  _Du wirst meine Gefühle nicht verletzen_ (You will not hurt my feelings)  
>  _Du magst es, mein Schatz_ (You like it, sweetheart?)  
>  _Ich liebe es, Bärchen_ (I love it, little bear)  
>  _Du siehst wunderschön aus_ (you look beautiful)  
>  _Geht es dir gut_ (Are you alright?)  
>  _Enspannen_ (relax)  
>  _Es ist perfekt, Liebling_ (It's perfect, sweetheart)  
>  _Du bist schon_ (You are brilliant)  
>  _bist du sicher_ (Are you sure?)  
> 


	23. Causality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [4vrafangirl](http://www.4vrafangirl.tumblr.com)
> 
> Translations for the intermittent German words/phrases are available at the end notes.

“Herms,” Newt ventures hesitantly, shrinking a little behind the taller boy as the pair of them make their way into the lobby. “Are you sure I-“ he hesitates, biting his lip, anxiously taking in the curious stares and a few disapproving frowns from other guests taking in the pair of them together, and- most likely- Newt’s attire or kaiju tattoos. “Maybe I should just wait over there,” the younger boy suggests, shrugging towards a corner with couches that for the moment seems to be devoid of any other guests.  
  
“I’ve already booked us, Liebling,” Hermann replies with a patient shake of his head, maintaining his gentle and affectionate grip on Newt’s hand as they make their way over towards the front desk. “We just need to pick up our keys.”  
  
“I’m just feeling a bit like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman right now,” Newt mutters softly with a frown as a nearby older man shakes his head in his direction, quickly stuffing what suddenly feels like a far too conspicuous bag from a nearby pharmacy into the pocket of his jacket.  
  
“Their piano is a bit more public than I had in mind for us tonight, mein Schatz,” Hermann whispers with a slight grin towards the baby grand on the opposite side of the hall as Newt all but chokes in surprise.  
  
“I meant when she goes to the shops and everyone gives her the stink eye,” the younger boy clarifies. “How on Earth is it you’ve seen Pretty Woman and not any of the other cool movies or shows that I’ve asked about,” Newt demands.  
  
“Karla,” Hermann shrugs with a slight chuckle as they make their way to the front of the queue to collect their keys.  
  
“I- you should have let me help,” Newt whispers softly, frowning a little as the concierge brings up their reservation. “With the reservation,” he continues, fidgeting a little.  
  
“You paid for dinner,” Hermann replies, patiently dismissive of the idea.  
  
“You bought my dress,” Newt points out. “And you still haven’t told me how much it cost.”  
  
“That’s because it was a gift,” Hermann insists.  
  
“I- okay,” Newt concedes with a sigh, recognizing he isn’t going to win this one. “But I’m paying for any extras- room service or any of that.”  
  
“Alright, Liebling,” Hermann smiles, accepting the keys and steering them both over towards the elevator.  
  
“Disgraceful,” a middle-aged woman waiting by the elevators tsks as the pair of them walk up.  
  
Hermann, who’d initially stepped aside to let her enter first as the elevator doors had opened frowns, grip tightening a little where he holds Newt’s hand, dragging the younger boy passed her and into the elevator first, before ambushing him with a rather passionate kiss.

“No,” Hermann replies a little breathlessly finally turning back to her when the pair of them have pulled apart, Newt still staring at him wide-eyed. “But your manners are. Shame you can’t keep your mouth as closed as your mind seems to be, but I believe there’s another lift coming around if we offend you so much,” the older boy smirks softly, pushing the button for their floor and then the one to close the door in her face.  
  
“Herms,” Newt squeaks in surprise as a ding and shift of the floor beneath them signals the beginning of their ascent to their room. “No offense, but what was that? Where did that come from? I mean- that was... that was awesome!”  
  
Hermann shakes his head, but he’s smiling again. That rare special smile nobody else would probably believe he’s even capable of. Well, not any of their peers at MIT would, anyway. Happy, affectionate, unreserved, and just for Newt. “You look so beautiful, Newt,” Hermann whispers softly, one hand coming up to cup his jaw. Newt melts, pressing into his palm returning his own giddy smile. “Tonight, and always,” Hermann continues. “Don’t let anyone tell you, or convince you otherwise. And not only that, but you are incredibly smart and funny, and passionate about everything you get involved in,” Hermann lists shaking his head. “Anyone would be lucky to be with you.” Hermann hesitates a moment, in the way Newt has come to recognize as the other searching for the proper words to express himself, to be and for his sentiments to be understood as he wishes them to be. Newt waits. “And I’m- honored,” Hermann resumes quietly, blushing slightly, “that you would choose to be with me.”  
  
Newt has never wished harder in his life that he could be more articulate, and better under pressure. But all the things he wants to say to Hermann about how much the same applies to him as well, stick somewhere in the back of his throat. Choked by the effect that Herman’s sudden and quite fervent sentiments have had on him.Then Hermann is clasping his hand in his own again, and drawing the back of it up to his mouth for a kiss, and Newt is pretty sure he’s suffering mild heart palpitations.

Anxiety begins to furl in his stomach as he follows the older boy down the hall to their room, because this is good- great- no, it’s wonderful. Perfect. It’s too perfect. Hermann is… Hermann is perfect, he’s everything and he’s… He’s never going to be able to measure up to Herms beautiful words, or what he’s offering him. How is he ever going to make this good enough? How- No, Newt thinks firmly, shutting down the storm of negativity that threatens to swell up and consume him. Maybe this won’t be everything he wants or hopes for, everything that Hermann deserves, but if he continues down this rabbit hole, it almost certainly won’t be. He’s got to try, at least.

“Help me,” Hermann asks gesturing towards the buttons of his shirt with a shy smile as the back of his legs bump against the mattress. And Hermann doesn’t really need the help, the elder boy makes a point of getting along just fine with as little outside help as he can, but that isn’t really what he’s asking. Newt swallows and nodding, crossing the space between them and carefully enveloping Hermann’s hands where they grip the collar of his shirt, and drawing him into a gentle kiss before setting to work on the buttons.

In the end, it’s not perfect. It probably couldn’t be further from it in fact. But, Newt thinks, reflecting upon it as Hermann lies curled into his side a few hours later, peacefully dozing, he can’t imagine or bring himself to wish it to have gone any other way. A comedy of errors between awkwardness, finding a suitably comfortable for Hermann’s needs with several stops and adjustments along the way… By anyone else’s reckoning, their first time had been a stuttering mess. And yet it had been full of smiles, laughs, patience, love, Newt thinks smiling fondly as he carefully shifts to reach out and stroke the other’s boy’s hair. Newt’s never had better. He never wants anyone else. He might, he thinks blushing furiously at the thought, have said as much in the throws of passion, he can’t be entirely sure, but he knows he was babbling a bit incoherently a few times. Hermann had too, though, the younger boy’s name becoming a kind of chant, and gott hadn’t that been something.

“I love you,” Newt whispers softly up at the ceiling, testing the words that feel like they’ve burned so long on the tip of his tongue. “I love you, Hermann Gottlieb.” The older boy hums softly snuggling further into his chest, and Newt’s heart stops. Had he misjudged? Is he awake? Had he heard him? But a moment later he returns to long and gentle inhales and exhales. No, he hadn’t heard him. This time, Newt amends thoughtfully. But, much as he doesn’t wish to dwell on it, the time he has left to tell him is tapering away, will run out sooner rather than later.

Hermann had been… the whole night had been… perfect in its imperfectness, but- would the older boy be ready to hear a confession like that from Newt yet? Would he feel the same? Falling in love had always come easy, though Newt is quite adamant this feels different, more important, than any of the relationships he’s had before. Where he generally prefers to be transparent, what you see is what you get, experience and hurt have made him more cautious. Admitting to himself what he feels for Hermann had been one thing, but… To leave himself vulnerable, open to being hurt again… And he will be, he’s always known that. Not through any fault of Hermann’s. But Hermann was never going to stay. Has been on an inevitable trajectory towards the PPDC since before they’d met. They’ve simply- traveled parallel to one another for a time. That time, however, is coming to an end.

He could go with him. He’s thought about it. It’s a hell of a lot more tempting than it has any right to be, but he can’t. He has his own research to finish. Important research. If he can find the answer to replicating tissue, it could be… well, it could be his new Jaeger program or predictive model. It could revolutionize the way doctors and hospitals deal with and treat burns, skin grafts, even perhaps Kaiju blue poisoning. And Hermann doesn’t need him. Can’t possibly want him there. Not yet. He needs to do this for himself. To establish and distinguish himself with the PPDC without worrying about Newt tagging along behind in his shadow. He can’t hold him back from this, no matter how much some part of him may want to. He can’t let himself ruin what’s quite possibly the best thing, he’s ever had going for him by being selfish. He has to let him go. And for the first time in his life, Newt loves enough to do so, to overcome the paralysis that comes with thinking of being alone, even if it feels like some part of him is hemorrhaging from the loss. He is still right there beside him, in his arms, his breath a warm caress across his canvas of tattoos, and yet he might already be in Alaska. He feels a million miles away already. Far beyond the younger boy’s reach.

Newt doesn’t sleep. Not for hours. Not until exhaustion finally overtakes him. He lies in the dark continuing to hold and occasionally stroke Hermann’s hair, his arm, or his back, while he still can even as he’s careful not to wake him. He does his utmost to memorize every line, every curve, every bit of him, replaying every expression, every laugh, every word, sealing his fate. The pain will be stronger this way, but so too will the memories, and if this is all the two of them will ever have together, Newt doesn’t ever want to forget this. And anyway, it wouldn’t be the first time anyone has accused Newt of being a glutton for punishment, he thinks, eyes tracing the Kaiju on his arms the way Hermann often had with his fingertips with a sad half-smile, well aware of the raised skin the ink covers even if it’s too dark to see them now.

* * *

The remaining days pass quickly. Newt wonders briefly whether that would still be the case if he had continued to try and fill them with ‘field trips’ and novelties, but with his energy and enthusiasm for such things beginning to dwindle, he can’t find it in himself to plan anything else. He can’t bring himself to regret hours spent wrapped in one another’s arms doing their best to shut out the rest of the goddamn world anyway. If Hermann is content with that arrangement, and he certainly seems to be, then so is he.

He doesn’t want to go. Doesn’t have to, really. Hermann had said the PPDC had offered to send a car to pick him up. But Newt can’t imagine saying goodbye will be any easier for doing so on campus than watching the plane pull away at the airport.

“Newt,” Hermann ventures softly after several blocks of silence and the elder boy’s hand hovering uncertainly over the middle console, unsure of how welcome it might be on the other’s knee, or perhaps afraid of making things more difficult for them both. Is this as hard for him? He hasn’t said much about it, but then, Newt supposes, Hermann has always been rather quiet, awkward when it comes to talking about anything too emotional. And in fairness, he hasn’t said much about it all either. He hopes it isn’t- easy- not that he has ever truly wanted Hermann anything but happy, but… “Mein Shatz,” Hermann tries again, drawing the younger boy from his reverie. The sympathetic expression on his face as Newt glances sideways at him when they stop at the next light almost makes it worse.

“B-Bärchen,” Newt manages, fighting hard against the tears that threaten to fall and kicking himself for the way his voice betrays him.

“This- Das ist kein Abschied,” Hermann offers softly, shaking his head. It can’t be, the older boy thinks, heart clenching as he meets those normally bright green eyes that swim with unshed tears. Newt is trying so hard. He’s fighting like hell to hold himself together, to put on a good show. It’s a wall that’s slowly been building up between them the last few days, ever since… but not on purpose, Hermann is sure, not to hurt him. “It’s just… Bis zum nächsten Mal,” he whispers, hand finally crossing the space between them to cover and squeeze the younger boy’s knee. They will see one another again, Hermann thinks determinedly. They can’t not. What they have- what they have shared, even in just the last week… this cannot be the end of it.

“Yeah,” Newt agrees, nodding, swallowing. “Yeah. Until next time.” It’s just like when Hermann stayed behind in Germany another week to spend more time with his siblings. “And I- we can call each other, right?” Hermann frowns.

“I don’t know,” he replies truthfully, not about to make any promises he cannot keep, to make this any harder or hurt Newton any worse than his departure already will. “I’ll be with the science division, but they want me to go through as much of the training as possible. Shadow it at least. I want to, better understand how I can help serve the pilots with my program and adjustments,” Hermann continues hesitantly. “With the time difference-”

“Anytime,” Newt replies, even as he knows he can’t actually promise that any more than Hermann can. He has his classes, his research, responsibilities of his own.

“I may not be able to much at first,” Hermann offers sadly, doing his best to stress the conditional last two words of the sentence. “But I’ll write,” he promises, confident he can do that at least. “We’ll find a way to reach one another.” Another squeeze to the other’s knee as they pull into the airport. Newt nods.

“I wish-” Hermann begins, biting his lip. So many things, the older boy thinks sadly, shaking his head, as he tries to clear his mind and a heavy heart for the long and lonely flight to come. I wish that I wasn’t going. I wish that you could come with me. I wish that I’d found you sooner. I wish we hadn’t wasted so long dancing around one another. I wish… I wish I could tell you how much I’m going to miss you. I wish I was brave enough to tell you how much I love you. “I wish you all the luck in the world,” Hermann manages finally even as he internally cringes at how impersonal and short his words fall of what he truly wants to say. “With your research,” he continues nodding as he swallows the lump that’s formed in this throat. “But I know you won’t need it.” Newt chuckles softly, but it sounds far too hollow to be of any comfort or bring any warmth.

“Mein kostbarer Stern,” Hermann whispers fondly, trying out the new name he’s long come to think of as Newt’s in his head, gently taking the younger man’s face in his hands as he lets his forehead come to rest against his. “You are brilliant. You burn so brightly. Never let anyone tell you otherwise or take that away from you.” Not even me, Hermann thinks, slowly letting his hands fall into the other’s hair and cradling the back of his neck as he draws him into a deliberately slow and entirely tender kiss.

“Bis zum nächsten Mal,” Newt whispers tearfully as the pair of them pull apart, Hermann stooping to grab the handle of his suitcase where it waits at his side.

“Bis zum nächsten Mal,” Hermann nods in agreement, fleetingly squeezing Newton’s hand when it reaches out to grasp his free one, letting go and making his way towards the waiting plane as hot, fat tears finally break free of their floodgates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Das ist kein Abschied_ (This isn't goodbye)  
>  _Bis zum nächsten Mal_ (Until next time/see you later)  
>  _mein kostbarer Stern_ (My precious star)


End file.
